The first time I saw her was when I took a short cut home from my after-school job. I would run through the farmer’s field, something that wasn’t encouraged according to the Posted signs. But when you’re sixteen you don’t often believe in signs that say Keep Out, or No Trespassing. Those are for other people. She was alone in the field. I could only see her from a distance, my eyes squinting from the strain. The sunshine danced off of her body. I loved her from afar and did not have the courage to approach her. I wondered if anyone else had gained her attention before. Is it possible I was her only admirer? But today would be different. Today was the day I would give in to temptation and approach her. I jogged away from my normal path, towards my new daring destination. I slowed my pace to a walk as I crept closer. I could see her pinkish hue, accented by dark features. I stood and stared for what seemed like an hour before my trance was broken by a man’s voice.

“Beautiful, huh?” said the old farmer.  “Yeah! She sure is gorgeous,” I said.  “They’ve written songs about this one,” he said smiling proudly.  “What’s your name young man,” he said.   “Rick. Rick Koval. I live about a mile down the road,” I said as the two of us admired the 1958 Pink Cadillac. Even though it was ten years old, it was in very new condition. The white wall tires were slightly stained from sitting in the field for a long period of time. There was a bit of an odor to it, a musty smell. The farmer said that it hadn’t been driven much in some time. But she was fully intact without rust or visible body damage.  “It starts right up, though,” said the old man as he withdrew keys from his jeans and opened the drivers side door. He sat down, put the key in the ignition and the engine roared.  “Wow! Sure is nice,” I said, peeking inside at the unmarked interior. It even had unusual seat covers in the front. They didn’t seem compatible to the rest of the car.

“Can I sit in it?”   “Sure, go ahead.”  As the farmer was answering my question, I was anxiously grabbing the door handle and placing my rear end in the drivers seat. I took the steering wheel and turned from side to side as if I was driving down the highway showing off my new purchase.  “How much is it?”  “A hundred fifty bucks cash. Can’t bargain at all. It’s a fair price,” he said.  I agreed, shaking my head but said nothing. I was unsure where I could get a hundred fifty dollars. And I also knew what my parents would say: ‘You’re only sixteen. You only have a .’ I had tested my parents enough of late, skipping several barber appointments. My learners permit. You don’t need your own car. Besides, it’s ten years old and will likely fall apart soon hair was reaching the top of my ears as I followed the new fad of the British musicians. They didn’t approve as I was strving for this new independence.  “Yes it is,” I finally said, still tight lipped and wondering where I would get the money to buy my dream car.