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Oh Yeah, I Forgot I Left Them There…

I have this recurring dream  <careful now>  where I am visiting the home place of a matriarchal great grandmother.

The land is still owned by that side of the family, but the house is in disrepair and the grounds are all overgrown. As I am pushing through the head high weeds I spy an old barn. I remember playing there as a small child while waiting for the Thanksgiving dinner to be served.  I can almost smell the homemade peach pies, hand rolled pie dough folded over fresh made peaches and peach preserves, wafting through the air. It seems to be coming from the screen door now hanging off the ramshackle back porch of the forgotten home. Memories of my father and all of the older male uncles and cousins are inside watching the Cowboys beat up on the Redskins. As I clear the underbrush outside, I step through the almost closed doors of the barn onto the cool oil laden dirt floor. Through the dirt streaked windows shines a muddy light through which I see several dust and mildew covered sheets, over shadowy objects in the old animal stalls.

Slowly memories begin to creep in of a conversation I had with my step-mother at the time. She told me that her grandmother, by then 98 years old, meek, mute and feeble in her chair in the corner,  had promised that when I grew up I would always be able to store my favorite car in the family barn. Back outside in the barn, I slide around the rusted hulk of an old hay rake, I spy a familiar bumper under the first covering. I hesitantly, then expectantly, lift the corner. First a few inches, then more and more, to reveal a pristine fire engine red painted 1966 Mustang. Wow, my favorite car from my teenage years! Apparently someone bought it back from the guy who bought it from my brother after he wrecked it. Now it is fully restored and sitting here waiting for me. In the next stall is my first car, a 72 Nova, also restored to original and beyond that is my black Dodge Dart. Then going further into the barn I find my fathers 73 triple black  Grand Prix and mothers 72 Javelin and even their first car together, a green 64 1/2 Mustang… and beyond that more cars from my uncles, my grandfathers WWII Willys Jeep and … and then I wake up.

This week on Autoblog I found out that almost this same scenario has actually come true for someone, the taxpayers of Miami. Mine is an example of longing for the beauty of a simpler life from the past. Theirs is a glaring example of just how inefficient our government can be. I will take my dream over this nightmare any day.

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