Some cars aren’t meant for speed or for flash, they are meant to waft diaphanously down the road. Such is Ingrid, our ’64 Mercedes. She was the first thing my husband and I bought together when I moved to Cincinnati, and I really think Dave will keep her forever. She was built in a day when people believed in round fenders, big grills and chrome; in glossy white, hardtop coupes of impeccable proportions.
We drove Ingrid to my hometown to be married. Our friends, known for their practical jokes, had strict instructions not to touch the paint as they readied Ingrid as our getaway car, so they filled her with balloons. FILLED her. There were quite a few comical moments as we popped enough balloons to actually get in the car and see out the windows!
We left the next morning to spend several days touring Kentucky. The only evidence of a wedding was the sign in the back window, but people honked, waved and gave us their best wishes all the way home.
There are fancier, more exotic honeymoons, I’m sure, but none as special as a newly-married couple in a lovely old car, wafting down the byways on a perfect fall weekend.