We tooled along the back roads without a specific destination, truly reveling in the journey. We were looking for a restaurant with outdoor seating, something that would offer us an unobstructed view of the perfect summer evening, and Alan’s classic car. She’s a looker,
for sure, garnering more than her fair share of attention; I vaguely remember those days.
I remember the days when my chassis was considered classy, when the stylish lines of my frame, from my headlights to my taillights, were enough to slow traffic. It seemed like just yesterday that what was under my hood could set more than a few engines racing; at the very least get my foot in the door.
had no trouble living vicariously.
We were having little success finding a venue to suit our needs until we stumbled upon Front Street in the heart of Wheaton. Vintage Rides was in full swing, a summer tradition every Friday night in this small community of 55,000 approximately 25 miles west of Chicago. Would you believe this particular night was devoted to all things Ford? I’m not sure everyone got the memo,