Meet Trigger
I was sitting in my studio late last night when I heard a noise that sounded like a car door being slammed and with the reflexes of an aging cat with arthritis I stood up slowly and walked to the front door to peer through the Venetian-blind; more out of suspicion than like the nosey old woman who lives across the street who does that constantly whether there is a noise or not. I think she stands guard at her own Venetian blind more out of fear of missing something than fear that anything out there may be amiss or even worth investigating. But I can't shake the natural reaction of an ex-cop whose instincts are to stay vigilante and pay attention to noises from dark places, especially in an area where car and garage break-ins are normal occurrences. Until a few weeks ago I might have moved even slower to take a peek because until then I would have suspected it was only someone coming home late or maybe a bandit breaking into someone else's car. When it is someone else's vehicle that is being tampered with I usually mind my own business because I am retired from chasing bad guys, but if they are after my stuff I want to know.
Two weeks ago that noise wouldn't have gotten my attention because the car I owned then was 14 years old with around 160,000 miles on it and it had a windshield that was cracked in 4 places, it also had a busted tail-light and four bald tires that were suffering from dry-rot. It was not something a thief would have even noticed sitting there, and in fact, a neighbor once crashed into it while trying to parallel-park, claiming he never saw it. That one was a Chrysler P.T. Cruiser that I called "Life Boat", because even though it wasn't much of a car it would get me anywhere I needed to go in an emergency or anywhere I wanted to go within a few miles of home if the weather wasn't conducive for walking. I didn't worry much about anyone wanting to steal it unless there was some rogue old woman roaming around out there late at night searching for her dream car. The P.T. Cruiser was a hot seller in it's heyday because it caught the imagination of hundreds of thousands of elderly women across America who still had a driver's license and could still see over a steering wheel because it reminded them of driving or riding in cars owned by their fathers or husbands, cars with rounded fenders and running boards that were everywhere in the 1940s.
But the younger thugs out there who are looking for something to steal look for more sporty cars or cars that look expensive and when they see one they hope a laptop or a purse full of money and credit cars is lying on the seat in plain view. I never left anything in the P.T. besides dirt and dead leaves on the floor board that had fallen from my shoes over the years. I never washed and waxed that car in the five years I owned it, and when anyone would ask why I didn't, I would explain by asking them, "who would steal a dirty old P.T. Cruiser with a busted windshield?"
The answer back from them was generally the same, maybe some elderly female car thief who always wanted one. Anything is possible in the world we live in now, but I never really worried much about something like that happening and it was one of the reasons I kept the old Life Boat. There was more stress driving it than there was worrying that someone wanted it for nothing. But that all changed a few weeks ago when I traded it in on something newer, one that didn't have cracks in the windshield and had two working tail lights and a car alarm that works. I had my mind on a Ford Mustang for a long time because let's face it, I am not getting any younger and there isn't much about me that is cool anymore, so why not buy a cool car? I figured even though the old P.T. was on its last legs I shouldn't think of myself as being on mine, I still have enough strength in them to mash down a clutch and feel something exhilarating when I release it.
After all, this might be the last car I will ever buy; mortality is something I am reminded of more and more every year. It wasn't an example of going through my second childhood because I have already done that 4 or 5 times, and it wasn't a mid-life crisis moment because I passed mid-life a few decades back; it was all about having one more very cool ride while I was still able to get one and enjoy it. This could very well be one of the last few times that I shop for something extravagant or whimsical for myself, so if it is, I wanted something I can enjoy looking at as much as I do driving.
But it is also a car that sort of stands out from all of the the others when it sits out there because its color is brighter and it seems to make a statement, unlike those run-of-the-mill more expensive foreign cars and SUV's my neighbors prefer, it is one that younger, more adventurous and unscrupulous southside dirty butts might notice first. So now when I hear suspicious noises outside late at night I have more on my mind. So far, so good; the security measures I have in place have worked. It sits in a well lighted spot, my nosey neighbor watches over everything and I have two big dogs with big barks anytime they hear anything withing a half city-block. And then of course, there is me. I pay as close attention as I can to my surroundings and I am a very light sleeper.
When I came back into my studio to continue my internet radio program I reached for a record by the 1970s band, America, and it dawned on me: the song was called Horse With No Name and now I have a Mustang without a name. What should I name this horse; Seabiscuit? It sounds fast, but no, too lame. Perhaps Pegasus, but he had wings and the one in the center of this grill doesn't. Maybe Centaur, but no, he was only half-horse. And then, as if a voice from my past was whispering in my ear it came to me; give that Stallion a name that is easy to remember, one that evokes fond memories of youth like the car itself does, and one that others will recognize when they hear it; a name symbolic of what you hope it will bring to you.
Just then I reached for a record by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans called, "Happy Trails to You." As I listened to the song I heard another noise outside and went to peek. I needed to know that everything was okay out there, and that my new horse was bedded down safely for the night and being left alone in the dark, just as Roy would have done. It just makes sense to go with the name I picked for this one because it has become rather special to me just as Roy's horse was to him. Therefore, there can only be one suitable name for it, especially if it happens to be the one that will carry me off into the sunset of my own life!
