Lost and Found by Vo So it goes a little something like this. I was in love with her. I waited years to get her, scrimping saving, driving around in a Ford Pinto for years. Waiting, looking, hoping to see her. And let me tell you, I am not a Ford kind of gal ;-) For me, Ford does not stand for First On Race Day, but Found On Road Dead. I drove up and down the west coast in that Pinto. I swear I know every truck stop with a shower and every exit with an espresso stand on the I-5 from Vancouver BC to Tijuana. I was searching for her. I wanted her to have a common bond with me. Something familiar. I avoided car shows because they came with car show prices and I'm not a high-dollar grrl. One day I got a letter in the mail. Someone else had found her for me. They sent photos. She was straight, original, only one previous owner and a small dent on the front right headlight. My dream girl. A '64 Valiant slant-6 (of course) V200 with a push-button tranny. Original paint, no rust - she'd always lived in California. She came with her original license plate, a '63 California plate, black with yellow print. I named her Harley - after my grandfather, not the motorcycle. My grandfather worked with the trains for CP Rail (Canadian Pacific Railway) and when things got tough at home he would take me out in his '64 Valiant to the train yard with the view of the mountains and the sound of metal against metal. His Valiant reminded me of freedom- and the green-grey dashboard and transmission lights remind me of safety and love. My grandfather died when I was five and he left the Valiant for me in his will. I waited for years to drive that car, to own her, possess her, become a part of her. However, this never happened. Three months before my sixteenth birthday, my parents sold the car. And that was when I started looking - looking for her. A 1964 Valiant to call my own. Years later I was 24 and that letter with the photo came. I was instantly in love. I got her of course and that car and I became the best of friends. I often drove her instead of riding my bike (Yamaha 650 Heritage Special). She gave me love, comfort, and security. I love being at a red light with a rude boy beside me in his little 3-banger Geo. I rev my engine and he'd laugh as if to say, "Yeah, right- with that big 'ol hunk of metal?" We would nod to each other and watch as the cross-light turned yellow. I imagine myself at the track. One, two, three, four, GAS. When my baby was tuned well, she would take 'em every time. I would laugh joyously and as soon as rude boy got the message I would slow down and light a cigarette thinking, "This one's for you, grandpa." But back to the story. My heart was broken last week when I parked at the Safeway and went in for just five minutes. I felt funny when I left her. I gave her a double pat on the roof. I didn't know, but that was the last time I would see her. I read in the paper that 17 out of 18 stolen cars are recovered in Seattle. Well, I guess if this was the Lotto I would be considered lucky. She's gone and I can't even say I'm interested in any others. I just hope she's not parted out. I hope she's with someone who loves her as much as I did. Yup, I never will forget that girl. Part II So I'm back and as you can tell from the photo, so is my baby. The reunion story goes a little something like this: I was out with the Greasergrrls at the Greenlake Car Show feeling a little sad the whole time. I looked at a rambler station wagon that was for sale- she was sweet but I just missed my baby. I noticed in the whole show there wasn't one car with a push-button tranny. I think I was a bit of a drag for the other grrls because I was a bit bummed out. Visions of Harley danced in my head. Really all I wanted was to go home and mope. In retrospect, I guess it's not all that smart to go to a classic car show when your classic car has just been stolen - kind of like rubbing salt in the wounds. I felt like I did my best and was patient but I have to admit I'd see a bit of chrome, a spanking clean engine, a blower or a small detail that makes life easier (like the small ashtrays besides the old corvette stickshifts) and I'd forget my troubles. Well, I guess I didn't forget Harley but I'd be appreciative enough to be a bit distracted. Well we saw all we could see and annieo gave me a ride home (since I didn't have a car). As we pulled up to my house, in the alley what I saw made me shake my head in disbelief. I thought my car was there, parked in it's usual spot. I had thought this once before and did the same thing- shook my head like it was a mirage. And the last time I did it Harley disappeared. But this time she stayed. I looked at annieo and she smiled at me and I ran out and hugged Harley. I even "got some dirt in my eye" and shed a tear or two. It had been a week since I last saw her I was sure she was parted out. But no, here she was sitting in her usual place in all her glory. I went inside to phone my friends and tell them Harley was back. There were many messages on the answering machine- my friend Rebecca had found my car. I called the Seattle Police Department to cancel the stolen car report and they insinuated that perhaps I'd gotten drunk and forgotten where I left my car. Forgotten where I left my baby? Yeah, right! She was found only a few blocks from where she was stolen - yup, it's a good thing I hadn't gotten gas - she was almost out when I left her and she was empty when they found her. So now I'm reunited with my baby and life is back to normal. I washed her that very same day and I'm buying her "the club" this week. Yup me and my baby, back together, thanks to Rebecca. And I'm still in love.