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Patty was a good friend but a lousy girlfriend.
At the age of 19 I was a struggling student without a job or a place to live. The Army had recently informed me that I was unfit for military duty and my mother informed me I was unfit for lying around the house duty. Where to live? A friend somehow talked his parents into letting me move into an extra room rent free. Transportation? My dad had the world�s ugliest truck available to borrow; a 1949 International pickup that formerly belonged to a roofing company and was covered with blobs of tar. Not pretty but available.
Patty was also available and, unlike the truck, very pretty. She was a �one of the guys� kind of friend that I never gave any thought to dating. For years it had been me and the guys dropping by Patty�s house and eating everything in sight. Her parents loved having us around and her dad was always good for a �when I was your age� story or two. I�m not sure how it went from me being one of the guys to me being the kid at the front door wearing my good jeans and best button down madras shirt. And there waiting at the curb was that tar toting truck. Being short on funds meant that our dates consisted of going for rides, hanging out in the parking lot of the local drive-in restaurant, or long walks at Point Defiance Park. Patty thought going to the park was romantic and I thought it was a way to spend time and not money together. All was going well until our first date when she realized that we would be touring town in the tar truck. She climbed in but refused to touch anything as she sat with as little of her little bottom touching the seat as possible. I�ll admit that a 1949 International truck isn�t the height of automotive styling and that tar blobs were not on the option list but it was transportation and it was free.
About our third date Patty informed me that she would no longer be riding in the tar truck and that I needed to find a new set of wheels if I wanted to continue our new dating status. I informed her that I had grown tired of her acting like she was entering an outhouse every time she climbed into the truck. About this time I met another young lady, coincidently also named Patty, that owned a very nice 1957 Plymouth Fury. It was unlikely that Patty #2 would be willing to chauffer Patty #1 and me on dates so something needed to change. Let�s see���persnickety Patty or Plymouth Patty. Patty #1 agreed that we made better friends than boyfriend/girlfriend so we amiably ended our short lived romance. Time passed and I got a job and purchased a very nice 1959 Volkswagen. Plymouth Patty turned out to be the girlfriend from hell so she was also replaced with a better model.
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