There's a place in north Arkansas known by some as the Mustang Graveyard.
Being a lifelong lover of Mustangs I feel a little twinge whenever
we pass by the yard with its hundreds of Mustangs in all stages of rusty, broken and crumpled
delapidation. Last Sunday I stopped and walked along the fence, needing to
hear the memories of each of the cars, memories of days when
someone drove it all shiny and new off the showroom floor, and the throaty rumbling of its motor spoke of power and excitement. Maybe it got to drag race
at the edge of town in the middle of night when more mature cars were parked
peacefully in their garages. Or young lovers parked on Lovers' Lane and
exchanged passionate pledges of forever while the AM radio played "Lonesome Town"
and "Special Angel", the tune wafting onto the honeysuckle scented breeze.
Forever came so soon..............