There are a few things on God's green earth that makes me instantly revert to my juvenile self -The theme to "The Dukes of Hazzard", hearing Phil Rizzuto's voice on old Yankee broadcasts and seeing an exact replica of the Trans Am from "Smokey and the Bandit." When I saw this delightful vehicle today I instantly wanted a CB mounted on the dash of my Toyota. Stupid cell phones killed off that form of communication. Texting my wife that I would be home soon because I was "gonna put the hammer down" didn't seem as satisfying as barking it into a CB and screaming "HEEEHAWWW."
When I was a young lad I swore that when I was old enough to drive I would have Bandit's car. It was a fait accompli. I would have the t-top with the gold eagle on the hood. I would also have Burt Reynolds stash, the cowboy hat and a need for speed. In my vision I also had cute-as-a-button Sally Field, but that's another story for another day. I'll just say that it's unfortunate that she's doing bone density commercials these days. Makes me feel a tad over the hill.
I never did get that Trans Am. I also couldn't grow an impressive stash at 17. My first car was actually about as far away from my dream as you can get - an '86 Chevy Sprint that I had to push down hill and pop the clutch in order to start. Once it was started I think it topped out at about 58 mph. Zero to 58 in about nine minutes. Any faster than 58 and the doors started to get awful fluttery like they were about to get ripped off. Not exactly a vehicle you could outrun Sheriff Buford T. Justice in. These days I'm straightenin' the curves and flattenin' the hills in a pretty sweet Highlander with Cheez-It crumbs and Legos smooshed into the upholstery. Someday the mountain might get me but the law never will.
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