Hitchhiking and Getting Around Without a Car-
- The Mustang Story

Eddy, sensing a sale, sprang from his chair and ran to the finance office. Ten minutes later, he returned with a huge grin and a ready contract in hand. He read the terms aloud, but honestly, I didn’t hear much. All I could think about was driving that brand-new dream car. I signed where he pointed. I didn’t really care what was written on the contract.

“Congratulations! You can wait in our lounge. I’ll have it undercoated and washed by 5,” he said, shaking my hand.

That meant another couple of hours of waiting. As he turned to leave, I called out, "Eddy, we’ll come back at 5.” "Yes, sir, that’s fine. See you at 5,” he said, grinning—knowing he just earned his dinner money by selling a car.

We headed to the nearest Kentucky Fried Chicken—back when the slogan was “Finger-lickin’ good”—and shared a bucket of Original Recipe chicken, with mashed potatoes, four biscuits and gravy, coleslaw, and two large sodas—total cost: $3.95. I paid with the lucky $7 we’d found earlier.

“To believe!” I told my friend.

We returned at 5. The car was freshly washed and parked in front of the showroom. Eddy hurried out, handed me the keys and a small plastic bag containing the contract copies, insurance papers, and the manual. We circled the car, checked under the hood, beneath the vehicle, in the trunk—everything looked perfect. At exactly 5:30 p.m., we drove off the lot in a brand-new '72 Mustang. I was on cloud nine.

I turned to my friend and asked, “What did I tell you? Life has better plans for me—to believe!”

It was years later that I learned: If you walk into a car dealership—even by mistake—you’ll drive out with a new car. LOL.

 

Fast Forward:
At Lum’s Diners and Restaurants