The Alfa Romeo that Sparked Ten Kids, Two Lovebirds, and a Singing Mermaid
His name was Joe.
He had a dark beard, dark eyes, and always seemed a little angry.
He lived two houses down from our home on Deauville Drive in Huntington Beach, California. I was about eight years old when I knew Joe. His three kids played outside with me, my sisters and brother.
Joe had an Alfa Romeo. It was white and slick and fast. No one else in our neighborhood had a speedy car like that.
We had an old, black, clanking Ford, long and tank-like. We would regularly stuff two parents, four kids, and two temperamental dogs into that car. My parents did not believe in fancy cars. They did not believe in flashy things. They thought any outward expression of wealth was in poor taste and “showy.”
In our middle class neighborhood, where children freely roamed, and parents kept a loose eye on their offspring, that fancy, showy Alfa Romeo stood out. CLICK ON THE LINK FOR MY SUBSTACK ARTICLE.
