In 1973 I came home from California with not a penny to my name. I moved into my mother’s downstair’s bedroom until I could get a job. I couldn’t get a job until I could get a ride. I purchased a 1963 Ford Galaxie 500 from a used car dealer on the corner for $100 charging it to my mother’s BankAmericard. It was a monster gas guzzler rust bucket I immediately named “Maxie”. There was one hole I fondly remember in the the top of the passenger side front bumper above the tire about the size and shape of Kansas. Someone had taped a piece of cardboard underneath and spraypainted the entire area black – the same color as the car – as if no one would notice. This does not at all sound glamorous but I daresay Max was probably one of the most fun cars I ever owned for several reasons including: no car payment; no seat belt law meant it could transport a multitude of guests; no worries about spills – oops! too late!; front seat was a bench so it easily slept two. Believe it or not I kept Max for 2 years and when I finally divested myself of Max, I sold it to a young man for, you guessed it $100. I do remember Max! Pretty isn’t everything!