Or the Credence.
Spent the weekend like it was 1985, driving around with my husband in his classic old Jeep from the early 80s, listening to the tape deck that we just discovered still works. We have had the car less than a year, and much of that time it’s been in the shop for repairs, and it took us a while to wonder if the radio didn’t work because the antenna was missing rather than because the speakers were busted. Then it took us a while to find any place that sold tapes (God knows we both got rid of all of ours years ago). But, sure enough, when we finally tried a cassette–it PLAYED! The look on people’s faces when we are at an intersection and they see us fiddling with tapes is pretty comical.
My husband thinks we should only play tapes from her era; I got him to concede that we could also play stuff from before, as that would have been available in her youth. I did, of course, demand that he find a Credence tape. Oh, yes; we went there.
On the whole, the weekend spent thusly made me feel rather like one of my heroines getting driven around in her beau’s dashing new curricle, and suddenly all the men who are looking at them aren’t looking at her–they’re looking at the vehicle. Trust me when I say this scene happens in one of my books eventually. Whenever I get around to writing a London courtship story (versus country courtship and London marriage stories…).