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Sherman's Story


By Cynthia Bailey-Rug


My name is Sherman. Iím a 1970 Oldsmobile and this is my story.


I was born December 18, 1969 in California. I have been pretty lucky- only on my forth owner, which isnít bad for such an old car like me. I have been painted, had an engine replacement in my younger days at only 86,000 miles (so young!!). Not to mention, I have seen plenty of this country from California to my current home in Maryland.


Mom bought me in October of 1992, and when she saw me, said, "that car is as big as a Sherman tank!" which explains my name. Second name Iíve had, and I do like this one better than "Old Bessy" which my last owner called me. Makes me sound like a cow for cryiní out loud.


Luckily for me, it was love at first sight for Mom though. She has always had this thing for big old classic cars like me. Yea, Iím hardly perfect- paint is all faded, I have some rust spots that Iíd really like her to get fixed, and my front seat could use a reupholstering, but she loves me anyway. She says I am sleek, comfortable and powerful, not to mention I have character. My mom loves me! She wonít even let anyone say anything bad about me. When people tell her Iím too old and hard to find parts for so she should scrap me, she tells them to back off and mind their own business! Can you believe it? Iím pretty happy about that, because I sure donít like the thought of ending up in that crusher thing. Iíve heard about that from other cars- this big plate thing comes down and squishes them flat as a pancake! Nope, thatís not for me. I like the open road. God made me for highway driving- for long distances at noticeably high speeds. That is my thing, right there! That crusher? Nope, let them little newer junky cars face that- I am a classic! I deserve to be restored and cherished!


Mom also keeps me clean and makes sure I have regular maintenance. I like that. That thick, nasty oil running through my engine slows me down, not to mention leaves a disgusting aftertaste. And that old antifreeze? YUCK! We wonít even go thereÖ


Anyway since Mom is good to me, I sure try to be good to her. I donít give her a lot of trouble. Although I admit, when the summer comes, I do tend to get a little cranky. Hey, Iím 35 now, and that means I am no spring chicken for a car! I donít like the heat. I am a General Motors car for peteís sake- anyone who knows us old GM cars with big V-8 engines knows we are cold natured. Canít help that! Itís just how God made me, so deal with it! Momís dad warned her that engines like mine were cold natured when she got me, so itís not like she didnít know what to expect.


For fun, I like to race new cars from traffic lights sometimes. So long as there arenít any cops around at least. One time, I raced one of those Mercedes sports car things, you know, the little two seater convertible things? I whooped its shiny silver butt! That sure felt good! Us oldsters arenít just for looking good- I have substance! Find that in your average four cylinder new carÖ I dare ya!


I just wish she wouldnít take those dogs out in me. Good grief, that big one drools on my windows and I hate that! Itís disgusting! I mean really- doesnít he have any control? At least the little one isnít too bad- she stays snuggled up to Mom since she is scared of cars, or in her booster seat so she can look out the windows. She keeps quiet. That third dog isnít too bad either, although why he likes to ride with his head hanging out the window is beyond my comprehensionÖ Mom really needs to let that man sheís married to take the dogs out in his car instead of using me! I am way too good for the drool and fur. That Chevy caprice of his however, well, she just isnít as cool as me, although I sure wonít tell her that. Moody as she is, she will cop an attitude in less time than it takes her to go 0 to 60. That is the last thing I want to share a driveway with- a caprice in self pity mode. That is NOT pretty, let me tell yaÖ


But, all in all, I am pretty happy. Got an owner who loves me and is pretty darn good to me. My heart, er, engine, is still goiní strong. And my body is in pretty good shape for my age. Sure I get a little cranky sometimes but who doesnít? Especially once they hit my age! I hear that old ford pickup truck down the street sometimes, and let me tell you, that is one cantankerous old truck! He is a 1974, younger than me, and darned hateful! Life is way too short for that nonsense, thank you very much! Iíd rather be my age, and still at least maintain my sense of humor! That truck doesnít even start most of the time! Heís got rust so bad on his frame itís pitiful! Personally, I think itís his bitter disposition that caused that rust to form. I donít have proof of it though. Not like studies are done on this topic. Guess his owner thinks itís because heís neglected the truck, and he is partly right. If he treated that thing right, the old crank would be in a whole lot better shape! But he hasnít even washed it since 1997, so what does he expect, yanno? A vehicle can only take so much before he starts to rebel.


Well, thanks for reading my story. Guess Iíd better goÖ I hear that darned chevelle of Momís husbandís calling me again. Sheesh... muscle car my bootyÖ she is so needy!


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