The Silver Bullet

In the 80s, Brent lived in Springville and worked in North Ogden. So with that kind of marathon commute, he needed reliable transportation. He didn’t want to put thousands of miles on his vintage Mustang so he went car shopping. Bottom line, he needed something inexpensive that got great gas mileage but was really fast. And he didn’t want anything flashy that would draw the attention of the Highway Patrol.

His solution was disposable Pintos. He always had two on hand—one he drove, and one he parked. The parked one was revved up once the running one didn’t any longer. He bought them for a couple hundred bucks each and drove them until they died. When I met him he had the Silver Bullet. She was originally silver, but had oxidized to primer gray. And oh, man, was she fast! There was an engine scoop on the hood that sucked oxygen and helped her glide nicely at 100mph. He usually didn’t bother repairing Pintos, but this one was special. She had taken him North for nearly a year with not even a broken belt or flat tire. But he moved closer to work, so he sold it to a friend, who sold it to a friend, who gave it to his kid, who sold it back to Brent for sentimental reasons. She sat in our driveway waiting for some minor repairs and hoping to be restored to her original 1976 stunning self. She served as a babe-mobile my fifteen-year-old daughter and her friend took on imaginary dates. We caught them once with their elbows hanging out the window pretending like they were cruising the Boulevard. Brent abandoned aspirations to fix her up and we sold her to our neighbor. If you want her, she’s still sitting in the same spot we left her six years ago, the credit union would probably finance you.