Hullo Sunday, with a longer than expected walk in warmer than expected weather. Dare I say a tad humid? Most definitely, air fragrant with ripe, moist earth and delicate blossoming daphne, cherry, and plum.
Our walk went long because of Paul, whom we met while I was gaping and guffawing at his 1960 Two Door Rambler Wagon (keep scrolling to see the terrific details). He also had a pretty fabulous Chevelle Station Wagon, a gorgeous blue of the midnight sky variety. We chatted a bit, and he asked us if we were in a hurry because the garage held yet another treasure, this 1932 Chevrolet. It’s a dazzler.
The steering wheel is wood and hand made.
It has a glorious patina in a thousand shades of rust. When I asked him if he was going to paint it another color, he uttered, much to my delight, “Rust IS a color.”
It is a gem, truly, with parts gathered here, there, everywhere. And when I heard the pleasant rumble of the engine, I smiled and said, “That’s alright!”
It really was. How lucky we were to catch him at the right time!
The Rambler. Like driving the summer sky…
