Edith remarked, "Will you look at that -- isn't that the cutest car you've ever seen?"
My Granddad knew right away what that meant -- Edith wanted that car! So they stopped and asked a salesperson what the story was on the vehicle. They were told that it was a dealer showroom car and that it would be outfitted with some "special dealer-installed options." The salesperson said to come back in a week, and they could talk to the sales manager about it then.
My grandfather tried for a whole week to talk Edith out of seeing this car, saying that it looked like a "speeding ticket waiting to happen," but Edith would speak of nothing else . . . so finally the day came, a Saturday, and they drove down to Hollywood Dodge to see the car.
When they arrived, the shiny red convertible was in the howroom as promised, and surrounded by all those mirrors, it was a sight to see. The manager greeted them, and explained that he had ordered the car to show off all the options you could get on this model -- a demo of sorts. He went over to the car and began rattling off all the options this car had gotten starting with the interior: High-back buckets with head rests (a $50 option in 1968 -- Yikes!!!), AM/FM Radio, dealer-installed speaker fader with rear speakers mounted inside the back door panels, power top, woodgrain wheel, air conditioning, console 4-speed with console-mounted tachometer, map light w/underdash switch, complete light package w/ignition timer, and an entire interior (seats, door panels, etc.) finished in pearl white. My grandfather said it looked like an airplane cockpit with all those extra gauges and knobs.
Then the manager (ignoring my Granddad's comments) walked over and opened the hood. "A high output 340," he proclaimed. "It's a real screamer!" The red small block gleamed brightly under the showroom lights as the manager pointed out the power steering, power brakes, and A/C compressor. "It's got it all," he said. After closing the hood, he went on with his list: Bumperettes, a grille extension, a remote-control mirror, full mag wheel covers, exhaust tips, a performance hood, white racing stripes, the list went on and on.
Finally Edith spoke up and eagerly asked, "How much?" The sales manager motioned to the window sticker, and as Edith and my grandfather followed the sticker to the bottom, they were met with a price that dropped both their jaws to the ground! This car had been so heavily optioned that the price was more than any other car in the lot! My grandfather, not wanting to look cheap, said they would think about it, but Edith knew there was no way that my Granddad would shell out that kind of money for such an impractical car. Edith knew the price was outside their budget, and begrudgingly gave up on owning the cute little convertible. However, Edith would see the car once a week in the showroom on her way home and tell her husband, "It's still there, Bill." So this ritual went on for a year, and still the red convertible did not move.
On her way home from work one day in September 1968, Edith looked over into the Hollywood Dodge showroom as she normally did to see "her" shiny red convertible . . . but it was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach twisted into a knot as she pulled to the side of the road. She scanned the entire lot, but there was no sign of the car to which she had become so attached while driving home every day, secretly hoping that one day she might somehow own it. Now that chance appeared forever gone, and the tears began, making wet furrows down her cheeks as she pulled away from the roadside. She cried the whole way home thinking about that car; she felt like she had lost her best friend.
As she entered her home, face wet with tears, she looked at Bill and said, "It's gone . . . somebody b-b-b-bought i-it!" She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing, as he put his arms around her. He sighed and said, "Edith, it's gonna be OK. . . ." He reached back and grabbed the door handle directly behind him, gently swinging open the door. As she looked over his shoulder, he flicked on the light switch, and there in front of her was the shiny red convertible, looking as perfect and beautiful as the first day they had seen it.
Edith looked up at Bill, and said, "I don't understand -- I thought we couldn't afford it. . . ?" She looked again at the car as it gleamed under the garage lights.
"Well," Bill said, "When the car didn't sell for 6 months, I knew the dealer would be under pressure to sell it to make room for the 1969 models, so about 4 months ago I began bugging the dealer to negotiate on the price. Once a month I bugged him, and this month he was finally ready to deal the kind of deal I wanted. Besides, I haven't seen your eyes light up like that since we looked at it the first time."
Well, I do not suppose I need to tell you all of the unforgettable times they had driving up and down Sunset Blvd. on those warm summer Hollywood evenings. Or how Edith pampered that car every weekend before she drove it. All I can tell you is that NO ONE was allowed to drive that car but Edith . . . and when Edith was too old to drive anymore, she would come out every weekend and dust it off in the garage......she never sold it. When she passed away, she left my Granddad in charge of it, and one year after he told me this story, he joined Edith.
In the will, one 1968 Dodge Dart GTS Convertible was left to me, with instructions to return the condition of the vehicle to "like new." Included was a fund for expressly that purpose. The restoration is underway right now, and I look forward to sharing pics of Edith's shiny red convertible with all of you . . . I think she would like that.