The only good thing about today was that I got that magazine with the Linda Blair article from school.
Other than that, we found Dad's car really ransacked and with parts and stuff stolen! I don't know why but I'm really, really worried about it even though it doesn't directly affect me. But I am.
Wrote my pen-pal about it tonight.
NOTES: I felt violated but didn't even realize it. It wasn't just my Dad's car, it was OUR car. They stole our radio and I don't recall what else from it...and it wouldn't be the first time during this period.
The earliest car I remember us having was a big, brown Buick. Then there was a two-tone Chevrolet. For most of my late childhood and early teens we had an early sixties Ford Galaxy in an ugly--in retrospect--green color. But it was shaped vaguely like the Batmobile. I liked that. Eventually it had died a more or less natural death and it was replaced by a white 1965 Ford Falcon similar to the one seen above. It was a much smaller car and I don't think I ever really got used to it. On this day, though...I was scared because of what happened to it.
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