Antique Mama

Somehow as we were riding along on our way to Colorado, the subject of old cars came up, and I pointed out a rusty old car that sat rejected, neglected, abused and confused in the field by the road.  My father then began a discussion of this particular car and its age.

“That car is a really, really old car,” he stated emphatically. 

“Almost as old as, say, your mother…[pause]…

…and me.”

A general uproar of laughter and teasing ensued, and the kind of memories that last a lifetime were made.