One the best moments in my life happened five years ago.

It was in the fall of 2002 and I was driving home from softball practice. For a little background, I need to explain the vehicle.

When I turned 16, my mode of transportation was my mother’s ’73 mustard-yellow Mustang. It’s her baby. She always said my “dad would go before that car,” and this year my folks are celebrating their 30th anniversary. Mom bought it when she turned 18, my brother drove it when he turned 16, and then I drove the car when I turned 16.

I’m not going to lie, that car has a history. It’s been in more ditches, fields and burned more rubber than a NASCAR vehicle. It’s traveled up and down Route 66 and took Mom to Missouri Southern for four years. I know somewhere out there, there’s a picture of my brother in the car doing a doughnut in a parking lot with police lights in the background. What I’ve done in that car will happily remain a mystery.

Looking back, I have to admit even though the car was not in the best shape, I’m glad I experienced it. Mom always said, “If you can drive this car, you can drive any car.” She was right! Of course a 16-year-old can’t appreciate a 30-year-old car, but I certainly do now. I called it “a piece” at the time, because if I didn’t shift just right, it died. However, one precise moment five years ago lives forever in my loving memory.

Carthage is beautiful in the fall with its historic charm and small-town integrity. The weather was perfect. The skies were clear, there was a slight breeze and the air was crisp and warm. I had the windows down and that Mustang was purring that day. With hardly any other traffic on Garrison Avenue, I was coasting at a comfortable 28 miles per hour in second gear. I breathed in the smell of the freshly cut grass and looked up at the gorgeous trees that leaned over the road. Patches of yellow, orange and red made the moment an artistic dream.

In a passionate moment, I shifted down into third, ready to cut loose the animal still inside that old car, but immediately slowed back down below the speed limit as I came up on Oak Street. Officer Barksdale liked to get high school kids on that corner, but he didn’t pull me over that day. He just smiled. Ironically, I graduated just after his son.

Even though the moment was interrupted with a lawful reality, I still smile and relive that moment whenever I want to remember a warmer time. The car is still parked in the barn, begging to be renovated. I know Mom will set the beast free again someday, probably when I’m out of the house. That’s O.K., though. Maybe she’s got tons of memories just like mine, keeping her and the car young at heart. When I’m about to celebrate my 30th anniversary, I know moments like that will keep me young, too.