We were out-of-town buying a shiny new blue and white Maverick. My friend had a tan one, and I liked it, and our Pinto had about bitten the dust. Yes, Pinto, don’t judge; Pintos were cute. Anyway, standing outside in the blazing August sun, the car dealer asked, “Did you hear Elvis died?”
I thought he was kidding. Elvis doesn’t die. He lives in some kind of shining Shangri-La, emerging now and then to sing about love and loneliness in a deep sexy southern voice that puts butterflies in the stomach. He has a daughter and one true love, and even though they’re divorced, they still care for each other.
So, yes, of all the cars over the years, the day we bought the Maverick on that stifling, hot summer day is emblazoned in my memory. One station played Elvis all the way home, and today satellite radio offers an Elvis station. When a certain mood strikes, with a flick of a button I can again bask in that familiar voice singing about little sisters, the north wind, and following your dream.
My memory of that day is also car related. I was driving home from work in my 1969 forest green mustang with the top down. I was in Alexandria Virginia and the news came over the radio. I cried at how sad it was…but I remember thinking it’s a beautiful day, I’m young, driving a great car and then they played Elvis songs the rest of my drive home, so emotional and so appreciative of my own life.
Jill, I can visualize you in that snazzy forest green mustang. Mustangs ruled! I knew someone who had a 1969 forest green camaro. Thank you for sharing your Elvis memory.
If it wasn’t for Elvis Rock n Roll wouldn’t be what it is today. Just ask the band volbeat.
How true, Ashley, and Volbeat really rock!