After a stroll across the square back to his car, just off Montgo street, his old ‘65 Mustang, temperamental greenhouse gas factory though it was and not even close to the restoration he’d promised when he bought it. He could smell the ripped red leather before he got close to the door. After almost sixty years, it was an old musty leather smell like the chair in grandad’s shed. It had curves and the promise of noise and smoke. Once she opened her eyes and got going, she shivered right through his feet and plugged into his spine.
When he started her up, on days he was permitted to do that, she whined and complained, crackled and popped and set herself. This lady deserved patience and she’d let you know when she was ready. She was warm and safe like your dog dreaming and snoring at the sam
