On seeing the restored Mustang, friend commented the other day that she “loves bucket seats.”
Are any of you readers old enough to recall the bench seats, column gear shifts and dashboard handbrakes?
Like the ’57 Vauxhall Velox
the ’38 Ford
Oh! The room there was in cars like the ’57 Vauxhall Velox, the Chevy Bel Air, the Humber 80, the ’38 4 door Ford… you could have your picnic basket on the front seat, the littlies could reach over for a snack …
the Chev Bel Air
And almost every family travelled with at least one kid up front. That left room for 4 on the back seat. Sometimes, a dog too. Rugby boots, hockey sticks and roller skates and beach towels were slung in the trunk/boot, depending which country you’re in. Seat belts? Back then, only jet pilots had seat belts.
Something else the really old cars had – running boards. Jolly handy devices for those of us who had to “ride gate duty.” And a level “shelf” for the picnic teapot and cups.
Something else I remember is how bucket seats, around 50 years ago, were almost the death knell of hanky-panky…
How much “stuff” is enough?
I mean, how does one know when to stop hoarding things that may, one day, possibly not in this lifetime, be of some practical use to someone?
I don’t really want to be one of those daft old bats who can’t open the door to Meals on Wheels because she has seven five feet high piles of “The Times” supplements and knitting patterns for soldiers’ comforters (can such items really be knitted? Don’t answer that!)
Confined to quarters, I thought I’d clear out some of the “stuff.” I made lovely neat bundles of “stuff” I intend to give to the op shop. More neat bundles of “stuff” to be put in the bin.And no, I’m not obsessive. The bin is not very big and wont be emptied til next week.
I found several things I thought I’d lost. I felt quite proud of myself. Until today.
Today, I have searched frantically for something I need. I cannot find it. But I still have rather a lot of “stuff” to sift through…perhaps it’s with some books…
That’s the trouble with “tidying up.”
I sometimes think being a compulsively neat person might be good for me. But about as likely as Hell freezing over…