A Car Story

I may be a bit chubbier now, but in 1979 as a senior in high school, I was a slim distance runner. I could run—not fast, but long and hard. Earlier that day, I had taken the bus downtown to cash my tuition check. Afterward, I neatly tucked it into my little leather wallet with the Mexican carvings—a treasured souvenir from a summer road trip to Tijuana. I was feeling pretty proud of it, (but let's talk about mindset later).

Now, I don’t like carrying a purse, and apparently, I wasn’t great with wallets either. I hopped on the southbound bus home, casually rested my prized wallet on the seat next to me (don’t ask why), and settled in for the ride. At my transfer stop, I smoothly signaled for the bus to stop, made my way to the rear door, and hopped off with the enthusiasm of the family bunny (yes, they call me that). The second my feet hit the pavement, though, something felt off.

Ding, ding, ding! ‘Where’s my wallet?!’ I yelled out loud to no one in particular. By then, the bus had already pulled away, making a left turn further down Broadway Avenue, near Santa Barbara (now Martin Luther King Blvd). I can still see it like it was yesterday.

Without thinking, I took off running. Arms waving in the air, I chased that bus for a full block—right from the middle of the intersection, through the turning lane, until the next stop. It was not leaving my sight.

Thankfully, the bus driver saw me. He pulled over, and a kind man, speaking Spanish, extended my little carved wallet out the rear door with an understanding smile. His face said he could feel my desperation, and I thanked him profusely. I could hear the other passengers chattering, maybe even cheering, but I was so focused, I don’t remember much. I don’t even remember the traffic or the light at the intersection—I just knew I wasn’t losing that money. From that day forward, I was done riding the bus.

I eventually sold my 1964 Chevy Malibu 457 SS, my first car. The first image above shows what my ‘baby’ looked like. Like most teenagers, I washed and polished every inch of that car until a rear-end accident took her out. But I still love looking at them, especially when they’re beautifully restored.