The part that had my mind in a whirl was that she is effectively blind in one eye and afflicted with glaucoma in the other. When she is in the car with me, she will get in a tizzy when I properly accelerate to merge with highway traffic. There is no need for speed in the rest of my family beside my brother and myself. She is not even remotely close to anything resembling a motorhead. Yet she wants one of the more powerful varieties of the American automobile.

This aberrant behavior had me perplexed. This is not by any stretch of the imagination the norm for my family. In my lifetime my family had no vehicles that would be considered “recreationally advanced”. The history of the Dunsford Family Car has been one of practicality.

This is not to say that the driveway has not had it share of performance or non-practical modes of transportation. My brother and I have had our share of project vehicles- in various states of working order- marring the aesthetic appeal of the house. My brothers were some of the finer examples of the genre that included a 1969 Super Bee, a 1972 442 and 1967 Firebird. Yet these were not the “Family Car”.

Our family cars have consisted of practical, safe and “reliable”vehicles. Since we were a family of five they were station wagons or sedans. The earliest I remember was a 1974 Ford LTD. It is the closest to high performance as it got. It had a big block and sported wood paneling. As a small child I appreciated the fold out bench seating and built-in checkerboard. Later it was replaced by a 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme wagon. It was white with red interior. Red vinyl was its only sporty accoutrement.

As you will have noticed I stated the family has never had a “cool” car in my lifetime. Before I was born, my mother had a 1965 Fairlane. My dad had a 1940 Chevy Deluxe. The worst thorn in my side was my dad's 1967 Ford Mustang. It was a convertible and had every factory option installed. He had ordered it specially direct from the factory.

The Mustang was sold soon after I was born. My being the third child may have been the budget buster and the 'Stang had to go. Since I weighed over eleven pounds at birth I suppose he thought I'd eat them out of house and home. My brother lays all the blame on me. Of course, he was no boon to the car's well being either- he was the one who once puked all over the interior.

There was hope at one point. When I was fifteen, a new car was needed. The then aging Cutlass was showing its age and needed to be replaced. My parents brought me along to the Dodge dealership with them. After awhile they had it narrowed down to two cars. One was the four door box K car. Not settling for anything but the best this was the “deluxe” version called the 600ES. It was adorned with touches of chrome, extra plush maroon fabric, power everything and the most annoying computerized voice that informed you that “a door is ajar”. This novelty wore off in the first twenty seconds.

Their second choice was the Dodge Daytona Turbo. Still not high performance as it was essentially the same engine with a turbo added. It was two doors and still had the look of performance. By the Dunsford Family standards this was a supercar.

Regrettably, the Daytona did not make the cut. One of the arguments against it was the size of the back seat. There was not a lot of room. This was said while I was in the back seat. I had argued that I was comfortable and I'd be the only one who would be sitting in the backseat. I was more concerned of the drivers' seat- where I would be sitting as soon as I got my license. Maybe my wild eyes and salivating worried my parents a little too much as the costs of rising insurance premiums streaked across their mind's eyes.

For the next few years I had to drive the 600ES. The only form of work I did on it was finding as many sensors as I could and disconnecting them. One in particular was the washer fluid. The fluid level always had to be full. Otherwise, with any amount of lateral forces it would shut off the radio and announce “Your washer fluid is low”. Just driving up an incline would set it off.

Our owning four bangers, station wagons and soccer mom vans has only given me a moderate sense of practicality when purchasing cars. Yet I would not mind my mother having the GT-500. Someone will have to drive it for her!