John Davis
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Once upon a time in a world seemingly far less complicated, my dad bought his first brand new car out of the showroom. It was an end-of-year sale, and the old Coronet was a little too long in the tooth for family reliability. She was a loaded '79 Medallion Series sedan. Painted eggshell white with cherry red velvet. A disco living room suit that he kept immaculate as his corporate cruiser before passing it on to me for my first car. I loved her just as much, as she'd taken me to my first day of kindergarten, piano lessons, family vacations, dates and even up to college. She died in city traffic when a kid in a Volkswagen bug thought he could beat oncoming traffic for a quick left turn. That kid was lucky he survived. We were crushed when the wrecker drug what was left out of the driveway. All I have left is a wheel cover and the fender script. Even in the '90s, she'd turned heads with how clean she was and how well she still ran. I know there are lots of cars out there that are faster, leaner, and way cooler. But driving was never as fun as it was in dad's old Dodge. I can still hear the seatbelt buzzer and the whine of the starter in my head. The first sounds of liberty. They're hard to come by now, and I know that "OUR" car is long gone. But I'd like to give another old Dodge a good home. She doesn't have to be perfect. I'd like a four-door, but would consider a coupe. Might even consider a LeBaron of the same era. Below is one almost like ours.
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