Who would believe it?

The VIN# search website said something like: If you're looking for "your" car, don't. You won't find it. Look for one like it to buy.

Well.

My dh is one in a million... Let me take you back about 20 years.

1984. B loves his car. A 73 Maverick Grabber with a 302. No prom photos with the girl friend, but there's one with him and his car.

1988. Spring. I'm the gf now! We swap the Mav for his Dad's pick-up so we can bring all of our crap home from college. Long and short of it is that there is some kind of accident with it and it gets sold. (Still unclear if it was with or w/o B's blessing. I'm guessing w/o!)

B spends the next 20 odd years sighing about the lost car.

Winter 2006. A big bug crawls up B's arse about getting a Mav to restore. By mid Jan., he's found one that will fit the bill. A shell of a car (no engine, doors, trunk lid, steering wheel, seats...) but workable. We get it for $200. He is happy, but continues to look. He obsesses over every Mav on eBay.

Last weekend. We go look at a running 72 Mav out in the middle of no where. He decides to buy it, too. Hey, it runs! The next day he begins to scour junk yards for pieces/parts to make them whole. He comes home with news of a hood. $75. He seems to be looking for "permission" to buy it - I tell him to just go get the darned thing before it vanishes. (He isn't looking for permission as much as someone else to blame for the expenditure - hey - the wife told me to go get it!) While there, he asks the guys if they know of any other junk yards that have Mavs. Yes. They do.

B scoops C up at the bus stop and they drive out into the middle of nowhere, 3 miles down a dirt road to a junk yard. They tell him sure - we have 3. This is where they're located. The first one is bad. Maybe he can pull brakes. He comes around the corner and stops dead at the sight of the next Mav.

Red. The logo moved on the grill to make room for lights behind the grill. A little closer. The engine compartment is Golden Glo where a sloppy bodyshop didn't paint red. His heart stops. He calls me, nearly in tears. "I think I found her ."

Parking stickers on the back bumper from our college... but the clincher was when he opened the door, and a May 1988 pay stub fell out with his brother's name on it. He has indeed found HIS car.

The junk yard guy has agreed to not crush the car, and come spring, when the ground thaws and we can get her out of the mud (only one tire missing, or he would have cut the trees that have grown up out of the engine compartment and dragged her home himself one way or another!)