"Well, a lot of good cars are Japanese..."

Guest post.


This last weekend, a relic from the past was brought back to life. It's seen more adventures than many of its kind, passed through the hands of six owners, and has been a constant backdrop to the unfolding drama of life for many years. Some have called it old; some have called it an eyesore. Some have called it Lucy. But no matter what you call it, it's always...

...the Altima.

not my car, but a close approximation, courtesy of the internet

Ah yes, the memories. The time when me, Leslie, and her friend Becky who was visiting from North Carolina, stole a wooden pallet and ran it down to the beach in the back seat for a bonfire. The time when Joey ran full speed into the corner of the open passenger door and burst a blood vessel in his arm. The seminary carpools. The drag racing (kind of). The late-night toilet-papering missions. The back-and-forth trips to Orange County, to the Salt Lake airport, to shows, to Guitar Center. The attentive care, and the careless mistreatment. And now, at 161,000 miles, the restoration.

More details to follow.