I was walking the dogs this morning when our young neighbor drove by in a Jeep. Her bumper sticker said it all: “Jeep Hair Don’t Care.” In a flash, a memory hit: me singing to the radio in my first car, a beast of an 8-cylinder Buick sedan handed down by my grandfather. Riding in it was like sitting in a living room, with its long blue bench seats and the scenery floating by. That Buick was so old and rusty, I had to duct tape the wheel wells so it would pass state inspection; within minutes of inspection, the tape would come loose and start flapping like streamers.
My first car that I drove was a 86 Chevrolet caprice with a metal body and an 8-cylinder monster engine. But nothing from that car’s memories compares to the comfort of the sofa level comfort of the seats.. Why don’t they make these seats anymore? I don’t know. Nothing comes close to that level of comfort of an absolute complete bench you can sleep on whenever you wanted..
My first car that I drove was a 86 Chevrolet caprice with a metal body and an 8-cylinder monster engine. But nothing from that car’s memories compares to the comfort of the sofa level comfort of the seats.. Why don’t they make these seats anymore? I don’t know. Nothing comes close to that level of comfort of an absolute complete bench you can sleep on whenever you wanted..