Photo by RP Thomas
Old Fury
One exterior wall covered with license
plates from at least 27
states was the old woman’s idea—stolen
from a photo she’d seen in an old
magazine.
Not a garage at all, but a bare
and unsecured
portage of recycled planks, the
structure
and the ‘57 Fury somehow gave the
old woman
stature among her curious friends
along Colver Road.
A vintage Plymouth with enormous
fins,
the car was the same color as the
woman’s fine,
flushed jowls when she drank her
gin, and the
neighbors always wondered if it
be by design—
The old man’s idea of a prank—for
unlike his wife
he was much loathed in Talent and along Colver
Road.
The car sat there day after day for
years, undriven,
until the old woman died of
cancer in ‘97.
The old man, who died in ’88 and preferred
his
Chevy pickup and his whiskey straight, never
bothered to
teach his wife how to drive, which explains why the
Fury is so
pristine and Colver Road is filled with such life.
TS
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