Those of you who know me (Mike) well, know that I have a "thing" for cars, especially old ones. I suppose that I have my father to blame - I mean,
thank, as he always ensured that I had a steady supply of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars from the very youngest age. My favourite book as a small child was "Go Dog Go", simply because I was fascinated with the drawings of all those dogs in their cool sportscars, riding around everywhere. Of course, my dad also regaled me with stories of his first new car - a 1950 MG "TD", his 1952 Jaguar XC 120MC and all of the various Studebakers (and a second MG) which came and went before I was even born. By the time I was in elementary school, I considered myself an expert car spotter, being able to easily tell a Karmann Ghia from an MGBGT or, more importantly to my Dad, an MG "TD" from an MG "TF". My father always included me in his car repairs and VERY patiently tried to explain how cars worked, so that someday I'd be able to enjoy them as much as he did.
Well anyway, somewhere along the line - about 20 years ago - I got it in my head that I had to have a 1968 Plymouth Fury. And it couldn't be just
any 1968 Plymouth Fury; it had to be a "Fury I" police pursuit package car with a 440 cubic inch (that's 7.2 litres to our Ukrainian friends), 375 horsepower "Super Commando" V-8 engine. Finding such a car was no easy task here in the northeastern US, where most cars of '60s vintage were already pretty rusty by the time they were only 10 years old. (No matter how nostalgic people are for '60s cars, they often seem to forget how much more rust-prone they were than today's cars!). In 2004, I found my dream car sitting in a quonsett hut in the Texas panhandle town of Canyon. It was a former Texas Highway Patrol car, which had sat in a shed since 1975. In 1971, it had been the gift of a truck driver to his truck stop waitress sweetheart, shortly after they married. Eventually, they divorced (I was told that she had actually put out a "contract" on him at some point!) and the car became the property of the truck driver, who promptly put it in storage. By the time I found it, a friend of the trucker had finally wrested it from him and began working on it. He soon realized that he didn't have the skills to bring it back to roadworthiness and that's when he put it up for sale.
I spent a fair amount of money and time bringing the old girl back to life and what a car she was. I was able to appreciate why the officers who drove these cars had such affection for them...or at least for their power. There's nothing to explain what it feels like to put your foot to the floor at 60 miles per hour and feel that massive, 4000 pound car take off like a rocket!
Fast forward to 2010 and I finally realized that the Fury would have to go if Annie and I were moving to Ukraine. Long-term storage was not an option, as cars - like people - do not take well to long periods of idleness, and need to be out doing what they were made for. Well, it took until this past Saturday to find the right new owner (with the right amount of cash). I'm very happy to say that the car will soon be restored to its former glory as a fully-marked Texas Highway Patrol car. And more importantly, the money I received from the sale will cover a good portion of the cost of a fine Eastern European car, for our mission travels around Transcarpathia!
I highly doubt that I'll find another car like it again or even have the inclination or time to hunt one down. Amazingly, I'm not being flooded by any weepy nostalgia, but am simply grateful to God for seven years of enjoying such a great car, and grateful to have found a new owner for it, who gave me a fair payment. People often say, "Boy, I wish I had never sold my... (fill in the blank with their first/favourite/now-worth-a-ton-of-money car)". I know that my dad wished that he could have held onto his Jag, or one of the MGs. But he - like me - had to put family before "toys" at some point. ~ Sigh ~ Does that mean I'm growing up?!! Naaah. It just means that I've finally realized that God has given me something more exciting than cars to chase after - namely, Him and His crazy plans for my future. That being said, I can't wait for my first Sunday at the "avtomobilnyj bazaar" in Uzhhorod...hehehe ;-)
