Mustang Mama…

If you’ll recall, our oldest purchased a truck, back in May 2010, a little before he got his license.

Here the link to my post about his truck.


Unfortunately, what we thought to be a great vehicle for our son turned out to not be so great.  It’s been in the garage, or on the driveway (much to our neighbor’s delight [insert sarcasm]), sitting.

Not driving.

Not moving.

Not anything.

His fender-bender didn’t help matters.

But, he and his father (mostly his father) got the thing running again, only to have it stall out, once again.

So, after much prayer and deliberation, ThrillCam and I decided to try again.

This time, though, we think we chose wisely.

(My son actually took these pictures!  I was rather impressed with his composition. Also, please note: the above picture is a more recent photo of his car, with the new black tires/rims–he would probably want me to point out that fact.)

It’s a used–slightly used–6-year-old Mustang.

It’s stick shift.

And, it has great potential to be fast.

…every teen-aged boy’s dream.

(My praying has become quite fervent, with a great deal of pleading with God for protection and grace….)

So, yesterday, ThrillCam took my Jeep across town, which left me with his big diesel truck–I don’t like driving it much–and my son’s Mustang.

I needed milk.  Because we were out.

And batteries.  Because the XBox remote was dying.

And some reading glasses.  Because I’m old.

I asked my son if I could take his Mustang to the CVS to pick up the above items.

With much vacillation, he agreed to let me drive his car.

It would be the first time I had driven it.  In fact, it would be the first time I had even really sat in it.

It has racing bucket seats.

My tush is a little large for racing bucket seats.

Somehow I fit myself in.

Honestly, though, it ain’t the getting in that’s the problem–it’s the getting out!

So, I drove to the store and heaved my body out of the car as gracefully as I could.

It was not pretty.

Nor was it cool.

I did not look the part to be driving such a hot car.

Here’s the kicker, though.

I squeezed myself back down into the car after purchasing the items at the CVS, and begin the drive back home.

As I enter the neighborhood, a bright, red Jeep approaches me, full of young, virile, teen-aged boys.  Their windows are down.  The music is blaring.

They either recognize my son’s car or just think it’s a good-looking vehicle and want to get a better look.  Maybe they see that there’s a female driving the car.

Is she as hot as the car?

They slow down as they are about to pass, and throw their hands out to wave, heads leaning out the windows in anticipation.

Suddenly they see me.

There’s an old lady driving the car.

An old, jiggly lady.

With reading glasses.

And no makeup.

Smiling a big, goofy grin.

Waving back at them.

All while grinding the gears, trying to find third gear.

(Do you hear the sound of the needle scratching across the record?)

I had no idea a Jeep could drive that fast.

Needless to say, it was a real boost to my ego.




  1. Beverly Merriman

    Oh Elizabeth, You really crack me up. Thanks for the laugh. I feel your pain when I drive Brooke’s jeep. I can so relate. Too funny 🙂 I do love your blogs :0

  2. Pingback: Some Favorites of 2011, Part One « Out to Lunch…

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