Mourning a Supra

Three years ago, my husband and I came into some money and went to a foreign car dealership to buy hubby his dream car, a Porsche. While he was off happily test driving a few, I wandered around the lot looking at other imports. Lo and behold, I spotted a slim, sleek, streamlined panther sitting off to the side. I warily approached and checked it out. Sensuous lines for a body, seats that fit like a glove. Control placement where you could actually reach it. I was in heaven. Hubby still wanted a Porsche. Unfortunately (ha!), none of the Porsches on the lot were want he wanted, so we took our money home and waited for an appropriate Porsche. A few weeks later, a local dealer had MY CAR right there on his lot! A used, 1987 Toyota Supra (non turbo). He had no Porsches. I begged. I wheedled. I tried hypnotism, and sleep-suggestion. I talked about "my" Supra, utilizing long, dramatic sighs. I stopped just short of pouting. Finally, after promising on pain of death that he could get his Porsche in the future, hubby forked over his hard-earned cash to get me MY dream car. I loved that baby.

It was an automatic, so it lacked the responsiveness of a standard transmission, but I was willing to forgive it this small fault. It handled corners like it was weaned on them. With a little gas, it would leave the Sunday drivers in the dust. This car was the one I had been waiting for all my life.

A year and a half ago, in December, I hit a patch of ice and rolled the poor thing 2 1/2 times. It came to rest on the driver's door, in a field about a block off the highway. I crawled up out of the passenger window (now above me), and caught a ride home from a good samaritan. We got the car from the tow-yard two days later and brought it home. Damage? Yes, but not as bad as it could have been. The passenger side mirror was gone. Driver's side mirror was still attached, though!, drivers side of the roof was caved in to the steering wheel, but the sun roof wasn't even cracked. Both door windows were shattered, as was the windshield. The body had a few minor dents, but that was it.

I was heartbroken! My car was no longer driveable! We were afraid the frame was bent, and it would have cost a fortune to replace the roof, and all the glass, so we drove (yes, DROVE) it to our house and parked it in the backyard. Where it remained a monument to Toyota's car engineering skills. I wasn't hurt in the accident, except for a minor neck injury wen the collapsing roof forced my head down into my shoulders.

A few months ago, my wonderful husband found (and purchased) a 1987 Toyota Supra that needed an engine and a back glass. It's now sitting in my back yard next to it's sibling. It's already wearing the rear-hatch from it's wrecked sister, and it's awaiting an engine transplant. I'm greatly looking forward to driving my resurrected Supra.