My Mama's red station wagon was the bomb. This was exactly it. Except it was fire engine red.
With burn-your-thighs red seats.
This car smelled like poo and in the dead heat of a SC summer, a red car was anything but cool. And when you're a tween, a red beat up station wagon with the roof hanging on your head was for sure, anything but cool. But if I had a dream tonight where I was in a parade going down a road of childhood memories, my float would be that red station wagon.