Buy me (scratch that) rent me a Pony

I’d had my heart set on a Mustang. This is a blog about a classic American adventure. I’m driving one of the world’s greatest classic road trips – Highway One from LA to San Fran via Big Sur. I needed the classic America convertible to complete the trip. I needed a Mustang.

The ladies at Dollar Car Rental saw me coming. I thought it was all a done deal, I’d pre-paid over the internet, I had my voucher, I was ready to go. But during the check-in process, she asked me, “so you want to be fully covered, right?” There is only one answer to that question at 7am when you’ve just stepped off a 12 hour flight and are staring down the barrel of launching yourself onto a freeway, sleep deprived, on the other side of the road. “Yes, of course”. That answer cost me the best part of an extra 200 bucks. “But I thought the insurance was included???” , “That was just the basic cover, you want to make sure you’re covered if the car breaks down, etc”. Ah, goodbye 200 bucks, nice knowing ya!

Paperwork, forms, details, chit chat about how I look nothing like my passport photo or my driver’s license, lengthy discussions about which hair cut of mine she prefers (she likes the short hair version, but agrees I can pull off a variety of styles), c’mon lady, cut to the chase, what kind of car have I got?

“So, what kind of car have I got, I’d really like a Mustang”. “You like the Mustang ha?” What does that mean? That’s not answering the question. This is going to be a Chrysler or something worse, like and Infiniti or something, I just know it.

“So just go out to the garage at the right and choose a car from section T”. I wheel my suitcase into the garage and saunter over to section T. Five Mustangs all in a row. Niiiiiiicccccce. No Chryslers within Coooeee of the garage.

Blue with black roof, silver with black roof, silver with tan roof, black with tan roof or black with black roof. The helpful garage man asks me if I need any help, “which one’s the best”, he looks at me oddly, “There all the same car, lady”. So I take black on black and jump behind the wheel.

Several minutes of fiddling and asking the helpful garage man ensue while I work out how to take the top down etc. Then I do a practice lap of the garage, before unleashing the beast on the streets.

Thank you God for giving us Sat Nav. I love the lady who guides me patiently around LA and then recalculates the journey when I miss the turn off on the Freeway (because I’m driving at 65 miles an hour in a foreign place).

The driving has not been as hard as I thought, although I haven’t graduated to listening to music while driving yet, that is tomorrow’s adventure.

I love the Pony. It’s cheesy as hell and I get lots of interesting looks when I pull up at the lights in my black beast, wearing my jaunty straw trilby. I love it. It’s so much fun.

If you ever find yourself in LA – rent a pony and go for a ride.