My first new car was a left-over '72 Chevy Vega wagon, bought because I was tired of paying for repairs on used cars. A bare bone, manual transmission model with an anemic engine, and I hated it. It couldn't get out of its own way, took forever to get heat in cold weather, and was atrocious in snow. It was, however, mostly reliable, requiring only a heater fan, $10 from a junk, sorry, salvage yard, and 5 minutes to replace, and the driver's side headlight, which for some reason burned out on a regular basis. It cost a grand total of $1,800.
I was talking with a couple of neighbors the other day, and the topic of age came up. I admitted to 83, to which Dave, whom I have known for many years, responded, "gee, you don't look a day over 82."
I was talking with a couple of neighbors the other day, and the topic of age came up. I admitted to 83, to which Dave, whom I have known for many years, responded, "gee, you don't look a day over 82."