I had only been married for a short time in 1968 when everything that could go wrong did go wrong. My only option was to send my wife and baby girl 100 miles north to stay with her parents while I tried to fix this mess.

When friends tried to introduce me to this person who was to become my wife I had said "You mean raccoon eyes?". She wore even more makeup than was the `fashion' of the 60's. It was the only outstanding feature I had noticed when first seeing her. I don't quite know how it happened but I found myself somehow connected to her. It was as though someone had cast a spell and I was not able to break it. On sun filled days the light seemed to be coming from her, not from the sun. We married.

The birth of my first child was an even greater shock. This little person was a more compact version of her mother. Now there were two of them and one of me. I was lost forever in the grip of some power greater than all that I knew of, and all that I ever would know. The truth is I didn't want the sunlight to stop.

When they went away to stay with relatives it stopped. I was angry that this had happened and impatient. This is a combination that leads to foolishness. Fortunately I survived to tell the story.

After spending the evening with a friend and his wife, I felt more alone than I had ever felt before in my life. The anger exploded in my chest like a bomb going off. I wanted to see my wife and child and the devil himself wasn't going to stop me.

In the years my wife and I had dated I had put most of my money into my car, a 1961 Pontiac Catalina Sport Coupe. The original owner had paid to have it souped up. It was called the `Bobcat Treatment' normally done only to GTO's by Royal Pontiac. This was the only `61 Catalina they ever reworked. I had an older friend who raced Pontiacs who added to this by using his obsolete racing parts from previous years while he was rebuilding the Pontiac's engine for me. It was a car like no other on the road. If I hit the gas from a standing start the rear wheels would spin and smoke until only the very front of the hood was visible in a cloud of smoke from the spinning rear wheels and the car would only move forward a few feet. Not very effective but it impressed my friends. The Pontiac ate GTO's for breakfast and laughed at Chrysler 440's. Corvettes wouldn't even try me.

The Pontiac was my everyday car that took me where I wanted to go then brought me back again. This was the car I was driving north to see my wife and child. I put the Hurst Mystery Shift into first and pointed the car north for a 100 mile run on the two lane blacktop that would wind it's way north to my wife and child.