Impact with the yellow Mustang
I recall being happily taking a walk towards The Danforth. I was in one of my shopping moods. As I reached the intersection of Pape St. and Danforth, a 1960’s yellow Mustang stopped for the red lights. The driver must have been in a nostalgic mood for he was listening to an old tune, which stopped me in my tracks. The song was by Bobby Darin,” Bye Bye Love.” I started singing the song to myself. “bye bye love, bye bye happiness, hello loneliness, I think I’m going to cry, I think I’m going to die.” And then “Mustang Sally” came to mind. “Mustang Sally, better slow your mustang down, you’ve been riding all over town, best to keep your flat feet back on the ground.”
As I turned the corner to the Danforth, I noticed a street bench. I decided to sit down and light up a cigarette. It occurred to me that perhaps, what I was shopping for was not to be found in any boutique.
Across the street was a hair salon. “I could go in there and “wash away the grey” and perhaps even a new hairstyle.” Looking good always managed to keep my spirits up. But that Mustang took me back to the ‘60’s. It could be seen to be the most romantic, exciting and musically the most prolific decade of that century.
Thinking about that yellow Mustang and how it changed my mood reminded me of how quickly something could happen which could completely change your life, forever. A car accident only takes a few seconds to take your life into another direction. The Mustang took me back in time and simultaneously to the present. I lit up another cigarette.
Looking at all four corners of the intersection, I wasn’t quite sure which direction to take.
Nearing sixty, I’ve become everything that was to become of me. The dreams and hopes of life have vanished in the same way as the ‘60’s era has.
I thought about the old fellow driving around in his yellow Mustang and about the nostalgic music he was listening to. Do old people live their lives in the past? I once heard a comedian say, that of course he lives his life in the past because that’s where most of his life is.
Looking forward, life is getting shorter. Arthritis and Ostrio have already begun to set in. What other delightful age related diseases were to befall me? Alzheimer’s? Now, that’s a frightening thought. I got up and started walking across the street thinking lung disease would be one sure factor that would stop me dead in my tracks. And then Smokey Robinson and the Miracles song, “The tracks of my tears” started to play in my head which reminded me nostalgia isn’t always such a good place to be and that Alzheimer would take me there on it’s own accord, should I be struck down with it.
And that’s all I remember. When I woke up in what appeared to be the hospital, the doctors told me that a yellow mustang ran a red light and throw me to over the other side The only confusing bit was that the doctors seemed to be wearing their halos and wings. And then while we were dancing to the music of “When the saints come marching in,” Satan appeared and served me the death tax, and then the Beatles appeared and entertained us with their version of "Taxman."