1956 De Soto the car I in which flexed my testosterone

Are you thinking what I think your are thinking?

I was up earlier, 5:30am, then I went back to bed about 9:30, so getting up to have lunch isn’t that bad. Actually, it was quite good. Two pieces of thin chicken breast quickly fried over lots of chopped garlic, the sauce was tomato extract straight into the same pan with liberal splashes of soya sauce, served with Parmesan cheese.

Last night, there was some sad news. Ronaldinho Gaucho, lately of Flamengo (my team) fame, but previously of international clubs and Brazil’s national team fame is not playing for Flamengo anymore. He started with the club with a hiss and a roar, but lately has sort of petered out. It is a sad day, because I consider that he, of all football (soccer) players, to iconic in the game. He started playing as a kid, always with a smile on his face, the smile never left.

My De Soto. In every boys’ life before he grows up he learns that cars are toys, that they no longer come in Matchbox size. I had many cars, but my love was the one above. That’s not mine, mine was all-cream coloured.

Just look at that ‘donk’ (motor), power at your finger tips. Not sure of the size of this one but the one in mine was a 380 cu in Dodge, it drank petrol (gasoline for our American cousins) for breakfast; but then in those days we could afford petrol.

But, what a toy to tinker with. In those days we had the luxury of space under the hood, not like today where it’s hard to even fit a hand inside there. I could sit on the fender and dangle my feet in the engine well while I worked in comfort.

The transmission was ‘Powerflite’ two stage auto. It was the first automatic I had driven, it was a dream.

Ah, the nostalgia…