I first met Cindy because my cousin, her best friend, invited me to a party Cindy held on Valentines Day in 1964. I know the date because she had the new album, Meet the Beetles, playing non-stop on the turntable and everyone was singing “I want to hold your hand.” I would turn 16 that summer, she just turned 14. Cindy had a boyfriend at the party but I took notice of her immediately and I really did want to hold her hand. I got my drivers license that fall but did not get a car until late winter. Insurance had to be paid first. So with the guy from Valentines Day long gone, I asked Cindy to a dance in the spring. And I could drive - big deal. We went to the dance, a few blocks from her house and then to get a burger after. I walked her to her door and she kissed me. Life changed that evening. I was enamored. She was beautiful. She was not flighty nor silly, she was sure of herself and so fun to be around. She had a good sense of humor or at least liked my jokes which is, of course, the same thing. Cindy valued family, took responsibilities seriously and was a very disciplined person. Qualities I admired and ones I desired but lacked. But she was leaving for Atlantic City where she spent the summers working at the YWCA along with her Aunt B. So it was only letters and phone calls - after 11 if you are old enough to understand why you get it - until school started for my senior year, her junior. We lived about 9 miles apart but that spring I had started working at a place just a mile or two from her house. Several times a week - it was too late to go out as I got off about 11), we would sit on her steps and talk. Long talks about dreams and reality. I was falling deeply in love with her. I remember taking her to see The Graduate at a unique theater in Shadyside (Pittsburgh’s answer to Haight Ashbury in 1967) and we ate in a small Italian restaurant. We felt very sophisticated. We went somewhere almost every week, to a park, a concert, a movie, dinner, downtown Pittsburgh or just long rides to get a donut or an ice cream. The longer the ride the better. I took her more than one time to get a donut at a place almost 60 miles away just so we could be together. Plus gas was 33 cents. Once she packed a lunch and we drove in my pristine 1950 Chevy deluxe convertible with the top down on old route 30 from Pittsburgh to Gettysburg for a picnie and back that evening. After she graduated high school, I was dabbling in college, she left for Atlantic City, then off to Hood College in Frederick, MD. I visited her in AC and once she was in college, almost every two weeks I would travel to Frederick from Pittsburgh. We had great weekends exploring DC and Lancaster, the Virginia and Maryland countryside and Baltimore. We were engaged in the fall of her junior year and married on May 8, 1971, the weekend before she graduated.
Cindy in one of the 21 cars I owned in less than 5 years. Economic tip: buying cars from a junk yard is not a long term strategy.