Overheard
One joy of growing up in rural America in the ’30s was sporting around in an old jalopy. With a little snooping, a car happy teen could find an old Model T that still ran. I found my prize buried deep in the lot behind a Ford dealer.
It was worn, dirty, black and beautiful. The price was right too, in fact, the license tag cost more than the car. Still, what could be swankier than driving …