My journey as a driver began in reverse, no pun intended. Most of us initially drive a modest, new-driver kind of a vehicle while our parents quake at home, praying we—and the car—make it back in one piece. As an adult, I more fully appreciate the generosity of my daddy, who let me drive his ’73 Mustang, a car he ordered when Ford decided to quit producing them as convertibles (thankfully they returned again in 1983).

All the boys wanted to know what kind of engine sat under the hood, so I asked Daddy. From that day forward I’d answer, “a 351 Cleveland” as if I fully understood what that meant. Which I didn’t. I just knew that when I gave it the gas it pulled back for a split second before surging forward in a delicious sort of a way. Not that I ever did that, but in theory I think that’s exactly how it would happen.

One day I asked, “Daddy, is the Mustang a hot car?” His response? “You tell me.” Yeah, I knew the answer to that one, and he knew I knew.

Good times.

Fast forward to the mid-80s when motherhood initiated the progression from mini- to maxi-van, as I call the 15-passenger I now drive. My E350 packs a lot of horsepower, but let’s just say I haven’t experienced the primal thrill that only a muscle car can deliver in well over two decades.

Until my trip to BlissDom.


When Chevy told me they’d sponsor a vehicle, I had no idea they’d offer a 2012 Camaro Convertible. A 2012 Camaro Convertible.

We spent one week together and I wish I’d counted how many people took a spin in her with me or my husband: the car is irresistible. Kids lined up in a restaurant parking lot one night when some homeschool families ate out together after classes and my husband rode them around the parking lot a few at a time until everyone had their chance.

One night I cruised through Nashville in it with a bunch of girlfriends and honestly, it felt like high school again in the very best sort of way, laughter and music and smiles all around.

@hellosarasophia & I are cruising home in style from #blissdom thanks to @chevroletSara Sophia made the trip home to Atlanta with me and then my husband and I drove to Birmingham to pick up our son who flew from Dallas, TX, that day. I’ve never owned a car with a stereo like this, or one that can play music from my iPhone. My phone isn’t overloaded with music; I prefer to add songs that are special in some way.

I don’t have words to describe the three and a half hour trip home from Birmingham—the feel of gliding along the interstate at night, eyes closed, accompanied by songs I love the most—but I felt the magic in it and knew it was a night to remember.

The last tune was Home (When Shadows Fall) from Paul McCartney’s newest album Kisses on the Bottom. That song holds the power to make me cry, especially poignant as we neared home returning one of our own to the flock.

I can honestly say that hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about that sweet car. Fondly. When I see one on the road I smile and sigh.

It’s one dreamy ride.


I’ve joked about driving a convertible again someday when the kids are grown and gone. It’s not a mid-life crisis if you’ve planned it for years, right?

Thank you Chevy, so much, for a dream come true week for this van-driving mother of eight.

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