I feel your angst. When I was forced to sell Charlene, I deliberately
sold to an outfit 100 mi. away so that I wouldn't have to see her on a
daily basis. You and I know what people *would* do to a nice Mustang
GT, and I don't want to see the carnage happen. I have enough
nightmares about it now as it is. I don't need to see the
transformation to confirm my worst fears.

I know too many people who have sold cherished cars to so-called "Nice
Folks", only to later find out they've gone to an abusive home.

One prime example for those who don't understand:

A neighbor sold his Dad's cherished '61 Chrysler a few years ago. His
dad bought it new, and babied it throughout the 40+ years he owned it.
It had a big V-8, A/C, power everything and every option available back
then. Always garaged, always clean and well tuned, the works. Most
every day, you'd see him buffing it with a soft, old diaper and some
wax, all the while talking to it gently. It always shined like a new
penny and the interior looked brand new. The engine ran like a fine
Swiss Watch. It was always a treat just to see him take it out for a
Sunday spin around the block. Oh, such devotion to a wonderful old
machine!

After Larry's Dad passed away, he sold it to a used car dealership, who
in turn sold it to a local woman. No one thought much about it until a
few months later when I spotted it here in town. I was not prepared
for what I witnessed.

The body now had several dents and scrapes in it, and it was FILTHY
front to back, and had never been washed. It looked like it had been
driven through a stockyard. One taillight was smashed - looked it it
had been backed into a wall or something. Inside was a large,
gross-looking blonde woman chain-smoking cigarettes and flicking the
butts and ashes onto the floor. Her POODLE was running around the back
seat, pressing it's slimy little mug onto every window it could get to.


The interior of that car must now smell oh, so nice. Looking back, I
close my eyes and envision the stomach-souring odor of feces, rancid
tobacco smoke, dog ****, fast-food grease, perspiration and hair dye
that must now be permeating the interior of that once-beautiful old
car. And tears well in my eyes for the beauty and purity that has been
forever lost.

I was mortified. I thought, if only Larry's dad could see what has
become of his baby, he would roll over in his grave. I never told
Larry what I saw - it would have made him cry.

Thankfully, I haven't seen it since. I pray she and Toto did a "Thelma
& Louise" off a cliff or something to spare Planet Earth of her putrid
Redneck ways, and to allow this poor, tortured old car to die with
dignity.

So, (ahem) truly, I understand your concern about the demise of
'Libby'. And I say it is justfied. Cars are more than machines. They
are living, consuming, breathing beings that need love attention just
like anything else. In a way, we give back to them for the work they
do for us, and we should all be grateful for this gift that has been
given to us.

-JD