Marilyn
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Old Cars, excerpt from a memoir, "Highway 11"
Plymouth, Savoy at Savoy Automobile Museum, Cartersville, Georgia Old Cars 1939-1968 Growing up, we had some really cool cars. Our 1939 rag-top Buick Roadmaster looked like a bootlegger’s car that Al Capone might have driven. We saw the road moving beneath us through the rusted-out floorboard. Wayne, Valerie, and I stuck our heads through the holes in the top as we stood on the back seat. Dad drove down the street with three little heads popping out. Many years later, our 1956 green-and-white Ford Fairlane often broke down, stranding us on the highway. “Oh me, I hate this old car,” Mother said. At the REA company picnic, she complained, “We have the oldest car here.” While driving home later that day, Dad thumped his cigarette out the window, but it flew back into the car. Overnight, it smoldered and burned out the entire back seat. Dad pulled out the cushions, and we rode back there on the metal frame with the pun
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