How a man came to give a damn about a car named Gus

As it usually goes, men form attachments to cars. Perhaps it's the modern day version of that attachment to the horse from time immemorial. But it's rare to form an attachment to another man's car. It takes a special kind of ride, that singular automobile embodying more than just transportation or storage space. GUS was just this kind of car. A rock-solid Ford Taurus, that faded paint roaring straight out of the 80's. Gus, and untold millions of his brethren, was the car that saved Ford Motor Company the first time around. The most American car company was on hard times, imports were cheap, people were tired of heavy, overpriced, gas guzzlers. In the 80's everything was bleak, there was great suffering and gnashing of teeth around, inflation was high, and every car coming out of Michigan sucked more than a hooker on Friday. Enter the Taurus, the car that defined the American sedan for a generation. From the late 80's to the early 2000's, there was not a more stereotypical American family automobile. Solid steel and comfortable velor, with two big couches for seats and an entirely adequate audio system, this car would take the family wherever it was they may need to go. They say that gray is the color of the uninspired, but I heartily disagree; Gus's inspired all-gray scheme was nothing but pure transportational utility. It was get-the-job-done in metallic clear coat. On a personal level, Gus came into my life at a special time. It was the first summer of living on my own, keeping it real in Chapel Hill with Mr. Butts. Little did we know we'd be babysitting a Ford Taurus with Colorado plates. But the first time we took her for a spin (after the cabin temperature dropped to under 120 degrees and the seatbelt metal was cool enough to touch), we were hooked. Maybe it was that antenna pointing straight ahead, like a lance from a charging steed. Or the solidly mechanical rumble (or maybe that was more like a whir) emitting from under the hood. Whatever it was, this car was more than the sum of it's 100% American built parts. It was a magic carpet ride to badass, and a symbol of a period of life when men figured out what it was they were doing, and what it was they did well. I salute Gus; even if his body was metal, his heart was fucking solid gold.