Barracuda

The other day as I pulled into the local Sonic, I saw a lineup of old cars that looked as if they belonged at a drive-in. The Vicksburg Car Cruisers were parked and ready to show off a dazzling array of antique vehicles. They were all very snazzy, and reflected the love, time, and elbow grease that made them that way.

But it was the Plymouth Barracuda that brought back a flood of memories. My grandmother was in the market for a new car and my dad had taken her from dealership to dealership showing her conservative, "old lady" cars. Mamaw wanted none of them. Instead, one day in the late sixties, she pulled up in a maroon Barracuda hatchback with a black racing stripe down the side. Living in the tiny community of Russum, Mississippi, we kids had never seen anything that cool in our entire lives.

Mamaw was a nurse in Hazlehurst, a small town about an hour south of where we lived. Before reliable and widespread emergency services, Mamaw would open the hatchback, fold the back seat down, load up a patient and haul him or her to the hospital. The Barracuda made many a trip out to the country to check on folks and down to Louisiana to visit relatives. We all loved that car.

Eventually, the Barracuda got so old and unreliable that Mamaw had to trade it in. No longer being made, the cool Barracuda gave way to an ugly, angular, green Plymouth Valiant. It was the end of an era.

But thanks to the Vicksburg Car Cruisers, I had a lovely trip down memory lane.