Lonny walked out of the hospital to be greeted by a humid and sweltering July evening. Pausing to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, he aimed himself toward the lot where he had parked his 1964 Ford Galaxie.
It had been a long, tormenting day. Today had been a day when you knew you were closing a door upon a chapter of your life, knowing things would never quite be the same again. His hopes were vanquished and he was in a highly foul mood. Being tired amplified his sourness, as did the one-hour drive home he was dreading.
Nearing the Galaxie, Lonny fiddled around in his pocket for his keys. As he started his nearly new Galaxie and turned on the air conditioning, listening to the eagerness of the 352 awaiting input, he realized he had a little treat in the glove compartment that would help keep him alert for the drive back. Reaching over into the glove box, he pulled out his cherished chewing tobacco.
Lonny’s wife Caroline was appalled about his tobacco habit. She said it was uncouth and urged him to quit. It had been the only real source of disagreement in their nearly twenty-year relationship.
As Lonny was stuffing his lower lip, he realized next month would be the twenty year mark since he and Caroline had met. Two decades? Lonny was trying to comprehend where the time had gone.
Letting the rush of nicotine enter his system and soothe his nerves, Lonny’s thoughts migrated back to that fateful rainy, August day in 1944. He had been stationed at a U.S. air base in England; he had heard the crashing of the B-24 over the thunderstorm and was one of the first responders.
Lonny had received some moderate burns in the midst of trying to save those in the school. Caroline was working in the aid station and dressed his wounds. While his original efforts had been horrifyingly futile, Lonny and Caroline were likely the only two people among the throng in the small English village that day to have found a ray of sunshine. They married soon thereafter and as her family had perished in bombings during the Battle of Britain, she went to live with Lonny’s parents near Kansas City.
Entranced by the sounds of the 352, Lonny continued to sit in his idling Galaxie. He realized he was flirting with becoming bitter about a number of the injustices contained in life; while not a bitter person by nature, Lonny felt himself wanting to succumb to the alluring propositions bitterness contained. Lonny tried to rationalize this urge for bitterness, almost convincing himself in how it was justified.
Lonny figured harboring bitterness was a perverse privilege. With Caroline having lost everyone, their goal was to have a large, vibrant family. Nearly twenty years into their marriage, they had been unable to begin fulfilling that goal. Life had always been centered around that goal, always preparing for “that special day” that never arrived.
Even the 352 murmuring in the background was part of their ongoing exercise in futility. They had always owned sedans in a perpetual effort to be prepared for when there would be more passengers to ferry. Now it was official; it wasn’t going to happen.
Thinking further, Lonny was teetering on the brink of fully committing to this bitterness. He knew there were no promises in life, no guarantees of milk and honey. Yet here he was, having spent nearly two decades watching all of his fellow veterans having copious numbers of children, some even beginning to become grandfathers, and he and Caroline had nothing. All he could do was return the favor she originally bestowed upon him, a cyclical return that always had Caroline doubled over in pain, crying for relief that Lonny could not provide.
Sinking into the bench seat of his Galaxie, Lonny kept having thoughts swirl through his head; despite the immigration chaos early on in their marriage, along with the monthly hell she experienced, Lonny wouldn’t have done a thing differently when it came to Caroline. Despite the years, the laugh lines, and the indescribable angst, Lonny wouldn’t have traded her for the world. The sharp sense of humor, the melodious lilt of her voice, her generous and kind-hearted personality – how could he not be captivated by her?
Even upon their first meeting, the convergence of two astoundingly different people, Lonny knew he would never be the same. That day was another time when a new chapter of life opened, a chapter he was still enjoying.
It was then the realization hit. That rainy August day in that English village had been a day of new chapters in life for many other people, also. With a tremendous startle intermingled with a sharply selfish guilt, Lonny realized he had been blessed with a happy, new chapter on that fateful day. Many, many others had been inducted into a very dark chapter.
Rolling down the window to spit out his tobacco juice, Lonny rebounded from his self-pity, becoming cognizant of how tremendously worse he could have it. Smiling with a sense of relief, Lonny put the Galaxie in gear, knowing he would see Caroline tomorrow, and headed for home.
Beautiful looking car. I’ve always liked the 1964 Ford Galaxie.
Thank you ! .
This story works on several levels .
50 years later , I still prefer the 1962’s .
-Nate
Nice work as always, JS. That’s such a wonderfully, quintessentially 1960s color on the Galaxie!
The 1963s were cleaner-looking; I didn’t like the more ornamented look of the ’64s as much as the clean ’63s (the 1963 Pontiac was my favorite of the time). But I do remember the commercials, played every morning on the CBS morning radio news, sung by a small chorus:
“Ford…has changed (Da-da-dah!)….Ford has changed.
What-ever you knew before in Ford has changed.
You’ll never know this new Ford til you drive it,
You’ll never know the changes…til you step in-side-it
The loooook is new (Da-da-dah!), the ride is too,
This solid, silent Super-Torque Ford is NEW, clear through,
Once you drive a 64 Ford, you’ll agree!
Ford’s changed (Da-Da-Dadada-Dadada-Dadadadadah!)
Take the wheel and see!”
…give or take a Dah or so…
A slogan that would be more appropriate for the ’65.
Two of my uncles had 64 Country Sedans in this color combo….both bought at the same very small Ford dealership in northeastern Pa even though both lived in N.Y. One uncle, a confirmed Chevy owner until then, would permanently switch to Ford and I believe currently drives a Grand Marquis.
About the story: friends of my parents back in the 50s thought they were in the same boat as Lonny and Caroline. They finally adopted a little baby girl and less than 2 years later were blessed with another baby. Both are grown and gave their parents several grandchildren.
While the story was interesting, I wonder why he is at the hospital; is she in the hospital or was he. I understand that the real story is the car. In 2010 I drove myself to the hospital and ended up going to Rochester via air ambulance…
Love the body-colored steelies with the poverty caps!
Good story JS. If my Ranger pickup had packed a 352 I could have got to emerg faster on the day I needed it.
Another fine story, JS. And a mighty nice Galaxie, too. Love the turquoise.
While I have never been a fan of dog dish hubcaps, those on the 64 Fords were always so mesmerizing to watch at low speed as the sunlight would glint on that central ridge that was almost a kind of a spinner.
The story of those old B24s and the Willow Run plant is a great one. The new book from A.J. Baime, “Arsenal of Democracy,” is a book that anyone with an interest in WWII history should read. I read all of Smokey Yunick’s biography once, and the best part involved his war stories. He mentioned how much he hated flying Liberators, preferring the B-17 instead.
This Galaxie would be about right if it were a 4 door hardtop. I think that’s my favorite bodystyle of ’64 Galaxie.
Awesome story, and one that really hits home for me personally.
In my younger days I allowed myself to succumb to bitterness caused by numerous huge ( for me at the time ) life disappointments:
Never having siblings, nieces, or nephews due to my mom’s medical conditon- a condition made worse by lazy, arrogant, incompetent doctors who cost my unborn siblings their lives.
Never having a real relationship with a female- not even occasional groping, grinding, necking or petting- when I was in high school or college. To this day I’ve never been “in love” ( whatever THAT is ) .
My own parents ruining my early, youthful desires for romance, adventure, and self-discovery due to their overprotective and authoritarian approach to parenting.
Lost or denied job opportunities that kept me broke, living at home, and missing out on all that life had to offer.
Losing out on two genuine potential life partners. One when she moved out of the country and met some other dude when she returned, and the second when she died in a freeway accident just a few days after I halfway asked her out and she accepted. That date never happened.
My anger, bitterness, and resentment manifested itself in less than healthy ways. Binge drinking, chain smoking, hanging with the wrong crowd, lashing out at my parents, broken dishes, holes punched / kicked in walls, isolating myself from family and friends. It wasn’t until my mid-thirties, when I landed my great city job, and started dating and getting laid on a semi-regular basis, that I finally recovered my bearings and began to count my blessings instead of dwelling on my failures.
Even so- the lack of female attention and companionship in my youth, and the lifelong absence of siblings, continues to haunt me to this day. Getting sick or injured seemingly every time I plan to do a marathon wrenching session on one of my CCs also continues to be a big thorn in my side.
Christopher ;
FWIW , having Siblings can suck too ~ my Parents pitted all six of us against each other to make things easier for them so as usual , there’s two sides to every situation .
Glad to hear you’re doing well now though .
-Nate
Well if he can’t have kids, it’s time to trade that ugly thing in on a Mustang, and this time will ya please spring for a radio, you cheap so and so.
The Mustang was an alternate ending, but I wanted to keep it on the somber side after talking hysterectomies and the Freckleton air disaster.
Very nice, enjoyable prose – though I hope Lonny didn’t let the 352 idle too long cause it’s 100% guaranteed that FE is going to overheat………
Motor Trends Car of the Year 1964…….I became a Ford fan for life with this model.
Personally I think 1962-1964 was a high water mark for Ford styling.
And I understand crews who flew the graceful B-17 referred to the un-graceful, but potent, B-24 as “…the crate that ours came in.”
Nicely told and great memo to many of us. Complaining doesn’t work, but acting positive and doing something about it might!
And good to remember the Freckleton disaster too, as we noted in our e-mail exchange last month.
My favorite car of all time… 64 Galaxie 500 XL
Not because it’s fast or looks the best, but because that’s what we had when I was a kid and I drove it in high school. Good times…