My First

They say you never forget your first.

Mine was a few years older than I. Eight years, to be exact. She had an elegance you just don’t see these days, and she had gorgeous curves. She taught me a lot.

It took a while to learn all of her quirks. She could be cold and moody in the morning, but once warmed up she would just purr wonderfully. If you pushed her too hard, she would refuse to play. But if you treated her right, she’d take great care of you. I wasn’t her first, or even her only, but I didn’t care. She was incredibly rewarding in a way I’ve never found since.

And she left when I was 22. I’ve never seen her again, and I don’t even know where she is now.

She was a 1963 International/Howe fire engine. (Get your mind out of the gutter!)

Edit 12/7/11: She’s on her way home.