Last Of The Ragtops

Last of the RagtopsIt was a deep, rich orange and its memory is branded on my brain. One sweet summer day, when I was six years old, that magnificent Buick Century convertible with the leather seats swept into my family's driveway and jiggled my rationality off an axis to which it never returned. There it sat, the embodiment of speed and panache, its luminous presence overwhelming the mundane contours of my father's black sedan. Its owner, a Navy captain, graced me with a brief, electric ride an...