The Summerland Advocate-Messenger - Reliable, Trustworthy Reporting, Capturing The Heartbeat Of Our Community

Consider it love at first sight.

She was sleek and fast, a force to be reckoned with.

She was a 1967 Mustang, with a metallic teal blue paint job, woodgrain dash trim, black leather seats and the iconic Ford Mustang logo embedded in the grill.

My then-boyfriend purchased her about a year after we began dating, an upgrade from the two-door Impala he drove on our first date.

I learned how to drive four on the floor in this beauty. On weekend afternoons, we’d head west, on the research center road. There’s a particular art to releasing the clutch and accelerating. Once in motion, he’d shout, “Clutch,” and I’d shift into second, third and finally, fourth gear, speeding down the deserted concrete, daring someone to catch me.

For nearly a year, she hauled us to basketball games and drive-in movies, took us on double dates and spurred our free spirits.

One day, she was gone. No accident was involved. Instead, the then-boyfriend decided to trade the ‘Stang for a 76 Cutlass Supreme, metallic blue, two-door. The Cutlass was fast, too, but didn’t have the allure of the pony car.

I haven’t given cars - especially muscle cars - much thought. That changed recently when Scott and I drove past a car show. So many impressive - and expensive - vehicles on display. Immediately, we started talking about the first cars we owned and the cars we wished we still owned.

The Mustang instantly came to mind.

Scott talked about owning a 1972 Dodge Dart, candy apple red.

I can picture the vehicle, even though I’ve never seen it. I’m guessing it was quite the hot rod and I imagine the car was involved in several drag races.

Saturday, after we checked out a cool blue Nova, Scott said the Dart was the one car he wished he’d kept.

I’ve owned two other vehicles that would’ve been worth keeping. The first, a 1976 Dodge Challenger, lemon yellow with a black vinyl top and black interior. It was the first car I owned, purchased when I was a college junior.

The car was classy and cool, drawing longing looks from some of my college friends, who always wanted to race it up and down the Burlington strip in Hastings.

I traded it for a more practical vehicle - a Gran Torino - shortly after I married.

The other vehicle that got away was a ‘68 Camaro. It was rough. The previous owners were in the process of restoring it and couldn’t afford it. We couldn’t afford to restore it either, but the owners needed fast cash so we forked over $1,000 and drove it home.

The interior was in decent shape, but the body looked like the paint had been stripped off and spray painted with a black matte finish.

By this time, we had a two year old and a baby in tow, so dragging main in a muscle car wasn’t practical or even an option. I loved driving that car, though. Smooth running down open highway. No cares in the world.

Then, we moved to my grandparents’ farm and even though the house was only a quarter mile off a blacktop road, we worried that the Camaro wasn’t suitable for gravel roads.

Eventually, we traded it for a family van, a practical move since baby number three was on its way.

The cars we drive say a lot about us. I imagine choices in vehicles change through the years, as life changes take place.

Still, whenever I see a Mustang, I don’t think of slowing down but rather, living in the fast lane.