In light of last night’s events, I’m taking it easy today to arrange for the insurance adjuster to inspect what’s left of the Mustang and make sure that there’s no further damage to me.
Thanks for all your good wishes, and I am keeping an eye on my health. The only lingering pain is in my right foot where I apparently jammed on the brakes, although I don’t remember it, and I was wearing sandals, so there’s some soreness but no swelling or discoloration. I’ve had a bad foot injury before — I broke my left ankle in 1989 — and this is nothing like that. I also don’t have any neck or back pain twelve hours after the accident, but I live two blocks from a hospital, so if things get out of sorts I’m literally around the corner from an E.R.
I know a car is just a machine; a collection of parts and pieces of steel, glass, wires, and plastic, but we humans tend to anthropomorphize inanimate objects, but looking back through the history of this car — I bought it from my mom in 2003 and kept all the records — I have a lot of happy memories of where it took me. Mom bought it ten years ago, trading in a 20-year-old Volvo, and drove it to her classes at the University of Toledo as she finished up her degree, begun in the 1940’s, interrupted by marriage and motherhood, and finally finished nearly fifty years later. I took it to the Keys with the top down many times, and made it a practice of driving home with the top down every afternoon here in Miami, weather permitting — or sometimes not. Its ancestor — a red 1966 Mustang GT convertible — is an off-stage character in Can’t Live Without You, remembered fondly by Bobby and Donny as a talisman of a carefree time still within reach. So to see it forlornly crunched and distorted in the yard of a tow company in West Miami is a sad moment.
But I have a lot of pictures, and somewhere out there is another Mustang convertible waiting patiently for a good home, and someday soon we’ll find each other and take some more trips to the Keys.