Mastering Obsolete Skills on Route 66
FIFTY YEARS AGO, ONE OF THE most anticipated days of a young person’s life was his or her 16th birthday, as it was the day you got your driver’s license. My birthday was on Easter the year I turned 16, and I was allowed to drive the family to church and then to Sunday brunch. We had a maroon Chrysler Town & Country eight-passenger wagon, with fender skirts and 40/20/40 split front seats with a fixed center arm rest that you could fold up for a third person to sit. We were hot stuff!
Our second car was a 1965 Mustang convertible with the two-barrel 289 and a three-speed on the floor. My dad immediately started to teach me how to drive a stick in this car. Meanwhile, our family and another had gone in together and bought an old school bus to convert into
