convertible vintage car

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Once, shortly after she moved to New York, driving her out to Long Island for a weekend with my family, we were spotted in her open convertible and soon cars were passing as with whistles and shouts and words of cheer. “Hi, Marilyn. Is that you, Marilyn? Hello…good luck!’ The ‘Good Luck’ (often repeated) was a gesture of affection, beyond the tit-and-ass syndrome of the American male. They genuinely wanted to wish her well, they liked her. I’m not sure they liked me her chauffeur, but good will  towards her was in the air. - Norman Rosten