Cinderella’s Coach

Cars have always been my passion, from early teens continuing through today. It was more fun to fantasize over cars in my teens when they were sexy, sleek, and unapproachable, sort of like that cute blonde cheerleader. Today, I couldn’t even twist myself into a 300SL much less afford one. If I approached that cute cheerleader, she’d spray mace at me, run, and there’s no way I could catch her.

Enough fantasizing, back to the cars. Cars to a teenage boy were everything, freedom, status, coming of age, and bait in the great sport of fishing, fishing for girls—that is.

I have to digress again; we Seniors do a lot of that. I’ll never forget one of the most embarrassing dates I ever had. There was an attractive blonde in my grade who had some prodigious assets, you know what I mean. Don’t you? Sure you do. She brightened my day whenever she greeted me. I wasn’t one of the more popular kids, sorta tubby (I would have fit in better with today’s obese generation of kids) and I didn’t have a car

A Sweetheart ball was going to be held at a Masonic Hall. I just had to ask her. I practiced asking my mother out and after much coaching I felt I was ready. I hesitantly approached her and stuttered and sputtered an invitation. Was that a yes, had I actually heard a yes from this dream girl? Yes, I had.

How would we get there? I’d ask one of my friends to go with me! Bill had a black 49 Ford that was lowered in back and painted with flames, even had Laker plugs. Fabulous car, Cinderella’s coach couldn’t have been any better—except—two days before the dance Bill told me he was sorry he would not be able to go.

What do you mean you can’t go? I need you there, or at least Cinderella needed her coach.

I tried to make other arrangements, with no success. I had no choice but to tell Cinderella that I was sorry the ball was cancelled, at least for us.

I approached her and told her that Bill could’nt make it and we had no ride. Surprisingly, she said that she would rather just be with me. Then she added–we could take the bus—

Take the bus! Would Prince Charming have taken Cinderella on the bus? Of course not! But, I was not Prince charming and Cinderella said she wanted to be with me.

I showed up at her house carrying an orchid corsage, she greeted me at the door wearing a frothy white dress with a blue ribbon and lace directly under her breast line (oops, I meant bust line) she was beautiful and reminded me of a cotton candy cone. She took me to meet her mother and her mother pinned the corsage onto her gown, told us to be careful and have fun.

We boarded the bus and all of the townspeople watched my Cinderella work her way down the aisle, trying not to snag her gown on any of the seats. Their attention then turned to me and I could hear them thinking, couldn’t she do any better than that—, that being me.

I don’t remember the rest of the night, I had reached the nadir of self-respect. No one, absolutely, no one would ever or had ever taken Cinderella to the ball on a bus. The fascination that I had for her was completely erased and it was sometime before my self-esteem allowed me to ask another girl out.

How many of you can top my embarrassment on a data.

Let me hear from you.