I didn't know what I was getting in to.   I have no idea what came 
over me, but it felt like love at first sight.  Over 20 years ago I 
wandered into Matthews Memory Lane Motors in Portland, Oregon 
and stood thunderstruck as the garage door was lifted on a vintage 
car.  I didn't know what it was and I certainly didn't know what was 
happening to me. 

First, consider these facts:
     1.  I had never bought a car.
     2.  I drove a '71 Vega...and was happy with it.
     3.  I didn't know a carburetor from a washing machine part.
     4.  I didn't know the year of the car I had fallen in love with.
     5.  I didn't know the make of the car I had just fallen in love with.
     6.  I didn't even know if it had an engine.
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But this thought was very clear:  what is my car doing on this used car lot?
.

     Five days later I paid cash in full for my 1940 Ford Deluxe opera 
coupe and drove away with Matthew's warning:  "Lady, this car's got 
a lot more engine than it's got brakes, so be careful!"

     The car was gunmetal grey with a Columbia River blue interior in 
1979.  I honestly didn't know I had something special; I just knew it 
was special to me.  I found a 1940 Roosevelt campaign button for 
the dashboard and I named the car Franklin D. Ford.  For the first 
two years I drove it to work twice a week.  I'd get "thumbs up" from 
other drivers and I'd return same.  Whenever someone rode in my 
car, they were invited to sign the guest book that I kept in the side 
pocket.  I was oblivious to organized car events or associations.  I 
didn't know they existed.  I'd never been to the Roadster Show or the 
Concourse d'Elegance.  I didn't have anyone in my circle of friends 
who were car nuts and nobody in my family was into antique 
vehicles. I was in new territory.  I learned how to say "two eighty three 
small block with a four barrel."  I had no idea what that meant but 
that's what I was told to say when asked, "What's under the hood?"

     In fact, I had to learn a whole new language.  I could listen to two 
car nuts talking and I didn't know if they were talking about the inside 
of the car or the outside.  I accidentally discovered the Northwest 
Cruise-in, an August gathering, by reading a mini-poster taped to the 
window of a 1956 Pontiac.  Franklin and I went.  "A whole new 
dimension of sight and sound," as Rod Sterling would have described it.  I had entered the automotive Twilight Zone--vroom with a view--and I haven't left.

    I learned that my car was a STREET ROD.  I learned new uses for 
old words.  I thought that "chopped" was something done to liver. 
And "raked" was what I needed to do to my lawn.  Those days are 
over.  Gone are the days when I thought "cherry" was a round, red 
fruit in my cocktail and a "deuce" was a card in a deck.  "Pink slip" 
was something I wore under a pink dress.  "Running board" was 
jogging when you didn't want to.  I used to say "blue dot" when I 
meant a Sylvania flash bulb.  A "mill" was a large place where they 
made paper.  "Headliner" meant a lead newspaper story.  In the old 
days, "flames" were in my wood stove and "pinstripes" were in my 
business suit.  I learned that "small block" is not a short 
neighborhood street.  And "stroked and bored" didn't mean that you 
were being touched by an uninteresting person. 

     My car, Franklin D. Ford, now painted a luscious 1957 Chevy dusk 
pearl, brought me friends and adventures and even some clients. 
He's helped me break the gender barrier in business by giving me 
common ground with male oriented organizations--I show up in 
Franklin, we gonna do a little car talking before the meeting! 

     This car has taken me places that another car couldn't have. 
People smile when they see my car!  Young kids marvel and point, 
old people remember a memory and they point.  A 1940 Ford is an 
extremely desirable car I discovered, a distinctive design and an 
innovation in its time.  This particular '40 Ford has been 
transportation, mood-setter, conversation piece, photo prop, a 
guy-magnet and good luck charm.

     In 1995 Franklin and I drove to the Bonneville Salt Flats, got our 
certificate for driving the Black Line and brought home the People's 
Choice trophy.  This honor surprised me because I made cosmetic 
decisions about the car based on what I liked rather than what is 
popular.

     People frequently say to me, "I used to have a car like that."  First 
off, there's not been a car like this; it is truly magical.  And secondly I 
have to think:  why don't you still have it?  I hope I never have to say 
that I used to own it.

     It's been a 22 year friendship that I hope will never end.  I still 
have it; I still drive it. 

Alyce Cornyn-Selby is an International speaker and  popular talk show guest and author of What’s Your Sabotage? and the Procrastinator’s Success Kit  available secured on-line ordering or 1-800-937-7771 or Amazon.com. 
Email questions/comments:  justalyce@usa.net
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