I miss my old Chevy with that convertible cover. Could it ever go. I miss it so. The old days were a treasure and parting was grief. One thing led to another. Had to turn over a new leaf. That’s why it helps to remind me of the cool days we had. It purred like a kitten and roared with a powerful V8. If I see one today, my eyes get kind of smoky remembering with Finding an original "squeeze box" at a garage sale is practically a pipe dream.
The feeling is warm and fuzzy like seeing an original Gibson or Barso Fender guitar. Some of us seniors miss those days. Where on earth did all go?