My current car is running just fine, but as it rapidly approaches the 200,000 mile mark, I’ve been contemplating what my next vehicle might be. My brain tells me I must consider only hybrids, both for their fuel economy and for their earth-friendliness. My heart tells me nothing but a Mustang will do.
My first car was a sporty 1966 Mustang, custom painted light metallic blue with a white vinyl top. It had an automatic transmission and a 289 V-8 engine. Back then we called them “used,” not “previously owned,” but I couldn’t have cared less. I was 16, and I drove a Mustang! Life was utterly delicious!
I’ve owned 5 cars since then, including two Mustangs, but none of them have touched my heart the way that first one did. Which immediately begs the question: What does touching your heart have to do with reliable and economical transportation? And the answer is: Not a damn thing.
I hate to admit it, but even the word “hybrid” strikes a dissonant chord with me (kind of like the word eunuch, but that’s a whole ‘nother subject). By definition, a hybrid, as it relates to automobiles, is a vehicle using more than one power source. (I suppose calling them “Combocars” wouldn’t sound nearly as glamorous.) And, in case you’ve missed this, hybrids, as they appear in comic books, are a fictional supervillians.
So I mulled all this around for a few days and decided that in my first novel I’ll have the heroine drive a Mustang convertible with a customized metallic purple-green paintjob. I’ll vicariously live, and drive, through her, at least until the book sells, and then we’ll just have to wait and see what kind of car I buy with all those royalties!
Problem solved—at least for now.