The magic in my life that I’m so grateful for: At twenty years old, I used my last dime and invested on a broken down, piece of crap, 1950s ―190SL. Yeah...I was hustled. Truth is, I won her on a bet off a Dallas Cowboy's game. The guy who lost the bet...only thing he owned in his name, was this old car. When I first saw HER, it was love at first sight. That’s what I thought at the time. I paid him some cash for the whip, minus what he owed me, for the bet. Instead of someone breaking his legs. After winning (buying) HER, I nicknamed HER, ‘The Piece of Crap.
She was the first Mercedes-Benz, I owned.
Yes, she looked smoking hot and sparkly, as if she just stepped off the runway.
― It was rough with HER.
― She had many engine problems.
― She had a lot issues.
― Many cracks.
― Many needs.
I can't even tell you some the most inconvenient places she has had a tantrum and just flat out stop working for me.
I must have called HER hundreds choice of names.
Trust me - I've thought of salvaging HER pretty-ass a million times, into billions of pieces. I've even entertained making a table out of HER.
Through the years my lifestyle has changed, while she remained in storage for almost two decades: Alone ― put away ― out of sight ― but still in my heart.
At forty-four years old, I can afford to fully restore HER. Maybe sell HER, for over 100g's. I doubt that. That would break my heart, to see HER pinks with someone else’s name on it. She belongs to me, always. Till my last days, and even after that.
On my forty-fifth Birthday - I'm flying to Seattle, rescuing HER from my mechanics shop and I'm finally driving my long time Love...to Chicago.
Yeah, my shit rocks and I’m loyal to the core.