A Monday Morning Memo of Misty Muskogee Memories
I have a 1971 Mustang with a canvas top that folds down behind the rear seat. Ask me why I chose to restore this particular year, make and model of car and I’ll immediately point out to you the convenience of having a gas cap that is centered between the tail lights, “You can pull up on either side of the gas pump. Either side!” After showing you how effortlessly one can remove the gas cap, I’ll continue the explanation as though you’re actually interested, “and it’s not hidden behind an irritating, spring-loaded license plate like the gas caps on GM cars!” By the time I’ve explained the slope angle of the windshield and pointed out the fully retractable wipers, you’ll be wishing you had never asked.
But Pennie will tell you that the real reason we own a ’71 Mustang is because every time I sit in one, I revert back to when I was 15 years old. That was the year that Perry McKee and I ruled the world from our headquarters on the second floor of his grandmother’s house in Muskogee, Oklahoma.
Perry always drove the Mustang with his left hand, because his right hand was always busy pounding invisible piano keys on the dash as we sang at the top of our lungs to a blaring AM radio. And in between each song, we’d lean out the windows and shout “Suuuu-bah-RUUUUUU!”
Perry and I never once lost a race in that Mustang. Never. But then, none of the other drivers ever knew that they had been racing. Like the shark in the movie, “Jaws,” our Mustang was just a speck in their rear view mirror, right up until the moment Perry and I zipped past them with shouts of “Subaru.” It was always then that Perry would turn to me and say, “Got’em.”
If a girl was especially pretty or a cheeseburger was particularly good, Perry and I would lock eyes for a moment, turn one thumb slowly upward and say in solemn unison, “Subaru.”
When we got tired of sitting at a red light, we’d throw our fingertips toward it and shout the command, “Subaru!” Shortly thereafter, the light would always turn green.
Why “Subaru,” you ask? Well, in simple truth, Perry and I just liked the sound of the word.
And when you rule the world, that’s the only reason you need.
Roy H. Williams
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