Down and home tomorrow!

I was going to try to make it to my cousin’s house in Virginia Beach – but it was just running too late and I stopped about an hour out of town at some Comfort Inn – which are usually no frills – and this one is too. I have no complaints – same deal, the truck and car are parked within eyeshot of my window just like last night.

The trip today was great. Before I started on my way, I put some stickers on the car that just said “Visit www.MYUNCLESMUSTANG.com.” I’d like as many people to know the story about the car as are interested, and it seems that there are a few – especially on the road home. Right in the hotel parking lot this morning, the woman at the desk had a look at the car and then pointed across the lot to her red 2004 Mustang Convertible. Along the way, I stopped a few times and each time someone approached me asking about the car.

Next, a gentleman in the Cracker Barrel parking lot asked me if it was a ’65. I told him it was a ’66 – they have a different grille. He told me he had a ’68 fastback – a gorgeous car in its own right – and wished me luck in my travels. He got a kick out of the fact that I was pulling it from south FL to NJ.

Later in the day, right over the South Carolina/North Carolina border at the rest stop, a guy named Billy from right in North Carolina approached and asked after seeing the sign, “I guess that’s your Uncle’s Mustang then?” We both laughed and he started ask questions about the car. The Q & A is usually the same – where’d you get it? Florida… what year is it? ’66…. And then I usually offer up that it was my Uncle’s and he was the original owner, it’s been sitting in his garage since he passed away in late 1998, and I am bringing it back to Jersey to restore it.

Billy told me he has a restored big block SS Chevelle – I think he said it was a ’65 – a true SS. Impressive vehicle. I wish I remember the year for sure. He examined the interior with an impressed look and I told him that I couldn’t open the door at the moment – the keys were packed away – but I could open hood and show him the motor. While looking at it I explained that it hadn’t been run in at least a decade, and I figured I wouldn’t try to start it. He gave me some advice on what to do to turn the engine over. Pull the coil wire and crank it to get the oil pressure up – “it’ll be alright then” he said. I’ll give it a try – and also pour some oil over the valves before I do – that suggested by my friend David.

While Bill and I were talking, Dwayne from Georgia walked up with a big smile on his face. The older gentleman asked me if it was a ’65 just like the guy at Cracker Barrel did earlier in the day. I told him it was a ’66, and about this time Billy was looking under the car at the floors – Mustangs are notorious for rusted out floors and I knew that this one has some early rot but aren’t through and through bad.

Dwayne examined the car, the engine, and had a smile on his face like a kid in a candy store. He told me a story, and if I recall from then till now (I have to start keeping notes when I talk to these folks) a friend or relative of his had a relative that owned a Ford dealer. When she graduated, that relative gave her a Mustang convertible – and he drove in it.  With a satisfied smile, he said with that it was quite a memorable ride. It was then that his wife Linda came over and said, “I see he found his car,” smiling. She asked me if I bought the car, and I explained that it was my Uncle’s. She asked about my Uncle and I gave the abridged story.

Billy, Dwayne, and his wife Linda all went on their way, as did I – but not before a biker named David came up and we talked a bit about it. He was riding from Myrtle Beach and expressed some dissatisfaction about how commercialized the place had gotten.

So tomorrow I visit my cousin and then I ride home. Right now, I am here somewhere outside of Norfolk and Virginia Beach in a Comfort Inn that is adequate, but nothing to write home about. I am ready for bed – and yes, I have already checked on the car, at least 3 times from my window.

Savannah Smiles

I was sad to leave Doug and Mary this morning. Unbeknownst to them (I hope) I again had mixed feelings about what I am doing. I need to just move on and get over it. We had breakfast at Bob Evans again (go for the bacon, it’s better than the sausage) and I finished packing up after a brief lost cellphone panic. I would lose my hand if I was able to pull it off my wrist.

Like I was saying, though – it was sad to leave Doug and Mary. If not for Doug, we would never have been able to move the car. Doug was the “idea man” the whole day yesterday and for the most part was the mastermind behind getting the car on the trailer. Mary was my encouragement. Her sweet demeanor and caring nature brought all of the cousins together yesterday which I can’t say enough how cool that was. This morning, she and I had a nice moment when we took a picture together in front of the Mustang before I hit the road. Doug and Mary – if you are reading this, please send me the pic!

My plan was to get to Savannah, and the good news is I made it. I stopped twice along the way to get gas – not only does the truck come stripped down, it drinks like a fish. Oh well….

The first time I stopped for gas, a kid came out from the garage and started to tell me about his ’67 Mustang. He had a look inside my Uncle’s and just like everyone else, he could not believe the condition it’s in. It makes me smile because it is another affirmation as to how well my Uncle and cousin took care of it.

I stopped one more time but drove straight through for the most part. The car is in one piece and the trailer held up like a champ. As we speak, I have the trailer backed up hard to a curb longways across about 6 parking spots in the Baymont Inn and Suites parking lot off of I 95 just outside Savannah. Of course, it’s parked within eyeshot of my room window. My paranoia will have me up every few hours to check on it from my hotel window. I can see the truck fine, but it’s hard to see the Mustang. It’s taking every bit of self control I have not to go out and readjust my parking job so I can see the whole car. If I could, I would put a remote IP camera in my window pointing down towards the car eyeing the area around it for any suspicious movement. The fact that three sheriff’s cars are parked in the lot gives me a bit of comfort – but I assure you I have already checked out the window on the car twice while writing this blog.

Every time I see it I am relieved – and maybe I even crack a smile. I’ll be smiling more tomorrow when I am sitting in Cracker Barrel across the street eating my eggs, bacon and grits! What? Didn’t you read the fifth scenario of what could possibly go wrong with this whole thing? I already scoped out the parking lot. Plenty of good room there for the truck and trailer – but I don’t think there are any windows in the dining room that I can sit by to keep an eye out. I guess I’ll have to deal. It’s either that or skip the grits, and how can that even be a viable option?