Crown Vic : Martin Gotfrit

Crown Vic

After 75 years at the wheel,
Phil's driving days are almost done, and my finish line is closer too.
A lifetime ago
when I rode up front with him,
I dreamed
we were detectives
roaring to a scene
in a Crown Vic.

They were big cars those ghosts:
but we could spot them
by their antennas and hidden lights. Sometimes though, they were cabs - filled with old smoke and always
a quiet radio murmuring from the dash.
All warm and welcoming in the night, they'd fit six easy as we slid in from the cold.
My friend Chris said "only ever own what you could move in a cab"
but he was talking Crown Vic -
it's a different story these days.

Getting old is realizing
Most folks won't know a Crown Vic And riding shotgun with Phil
now spins different scenes.
My car, with its spaceship display from another century,
isn't rushing to adventure.
I just want it to get me home
so I can dream.

                                                    -Martin Gotfrit

AL: Was dismayed that a search of the AL archive turns up 0 Crown Victorias. Apart from being the last standard-issue, ubiquitous, American-made, rear-wheel-drive NYC taxi, they were the favorite floatmobile for a generation. The  driving experience?  A living room on wheels. Your parents' living room.  The closest we have come to profiling a Crown Vic is this 1977 Ford Custom 500 spotted on the ferry wharf at Tadoussac. If you see any Crown Vics, please do send 'em along, with field notes.

Please see also Love Cars, and Father's Son : PB's essays on fathers and cars.