When I was thirty (which was a long, long time ago) my goal was to own a Harley at age forty. When I turned forty (almost a decade ago), the idea of falling off a Harley overtook my earlier obsession. Four wheels are better than two, I reasoned.
I've had the convertible ten years now. Amazing how time flies when there's no roof.
My grandmother had a convertible. If I remember correctly, it was a green Karmann Ghia that looked like this:
I thought that was pretty cool. So, can somebody tell me the story of how it is my grandmother ended up driving this?
4 comments:
Ahem. I don't remember its being green - I'm thinking more like silver. But it certainly was a Ghia and a sporty little car to drive, especially with that top down. I don't know how it came to be hers, but then I'm not entirely sure how she wound up flying a Cessna either.
Just liked to get around in style, I guess.
Wow, really? Not green? My memory is colorized badly.
Or mine.
Well, it actually was green. The same shade as in the picture, so your memory is accurate. Something you might not remember, or maybe never knew, is that when the body began to rust through, your grandfather would fix it with Dap and green Rustoleum! I used to wonder what would happen if it was driven in a heavy rain storm...
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