By Austin Baird Conley
“Baby, can we buy a ‘62 Bel Air?” came the sweetest voice Cadi could muster from the guest room of our Humboldt County home. Our friend Matt-Rod was visiting, and they were in there scouring the local classifieds for beautiful pieces of metal to feed the addiction. I’m sure the look on my face said, “Do we really need another car right now?” My eyes wandered wistfully out the window behind them to see all of the other project heaps we had hauled home. But their enthusiasm about this jewel we could own for only $2200, and my own developing addiction to fascinating hunks of metal, were all the twisting my arm needed. We got the money together and ventured out to see the car up close.
When we pulled up to the destined address, the plain white, dirty, neglected beauty was parked on the street and night was falling. She was just lovely to my eyes and looked so lonely there in the last light of day. My heart broke a little that she might sit another night parked on the street with FOR SALE scrawled across her window, feeling unwanted. She was dainty and decently kept in original condition with massive potential for renewed life. I fell in love with her as instantly as the first time I saw Cadi, and that night we parked her in our driveway and gave her the name “Penny Lane.”
A couple of weeks later, Cadi did some body repairs, mostly removing rust, and now there were purple and blue primer spots all over it. At all hours of the day, and sometimes odd hours of the night, sanding noises could be heard coming from the makeshift garage/painting booth that had become of the carport since Penny Lane had come home.
Cadi repeatedly mentioned the line down the side of the car calling out for attention, but we deliberated about colors without any kind of resolution for weeks. I knew Cadi well enough to know that I could voice my ideas, and that he would humor me and act like he was considering them, but when it came to color, he was going to disregard any other opinion and do whatever he wanted.
The suspense was drawn out for weeks with so many possibilities to consider. Neither of us would ever dream of leaving a car white, and the only limiting guideline was that the paint would have to match the original boring blue interior. Our 6-year-old Maya really liked the multi-colored primer spots and lobbied for keeping it that way. Many fancy dinners at our favorite Ferndale restaurants and many movie nights on the town were charioted by this silly looking lowrider with half a paint job we parked proudly out front. We loved her in spite of her imperfections, and she truly was the finest car we had for driving.
The sanding noises persisted, and the car was hidden in Cadi’s carport studio think tank for a short spell. He wouldn’t let me in there, and I didn’t pry because I like surprises, although once or twice I peeked through the blinds just to watch my favorite artist paint for a minute. The car was becoming some shade of purple, but was covered in tape and paper and I didn’t see much.
On our birthday, April 15, a warm spring day that year, two months after we bought the car, it reemerged with a clean, new shine and two-tone lavender and pearl white paint divided by the body line that Cadi was so drawn to accentuate. He parked it in front of the house and handed me the keys. I swept them up, looking forward to driving to a family birthday celebration. What I didn’t know was that Cadi had already seen my family that day before I woke up. He had in fact driven to my mother’s house, and my father’s house with the car, to announce he was going to propose to me and to ask for their blessing.
When I sat down to drive, there on the dash, in the prettiest painted letters, was the inquiry, “Austin, will you marry me?” He had spent days making this message perfect, and it showed. The letters were absolutely gorgeous and so detailed, and even had little sparkles painted on them. Cadi climbed into the passenger side to be attacked with hugs and kisses. I sensed he was a little nervous about my response, “Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked. I was flattered he might think there was any chance I would say anything but yes. This was the sweetest, most precious birthday gift imaginable, and I could not have been happier if it were a thousand diamonds.
Indecent Proposal has recently undergone her second complete makeover, including a front-end swap, and we showed her at the Grand National Roadster Show in Pomona, and at Sacramento Autorama. Her new color is Tiffany Blue, with pearl white on the lower half, and the interior is pearl white leather. The dash has been intensively sparkled, and even the carpets and headliners are a bright suede to match the diamond box theme. She is better than an engagement ring, and much more comfortable! When we are married at the West Coast Kustoms Cruisin’ Nationals show in May, she will thereby be pronounced my daily driver until death do us part.
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