Falcon part 2

I have never seen a new or restored 1962 Falcon but I can imagine that the blue paint was as bright as the summer sky. The imitation wood paneling running along it's length hard to distinguish whether it was really varnished wood or shiny plastic. I was to become the owner of the car through my Mom's second husband. I won't include his name because as it turns out he was not an honest man. In fact I really believe he gave me the car to try and get "back in" with Mom. She had booted him out after he pulled a gun, a Ruger .357 Blackhawk with a 7" barrel, and pointed it at me. I screamed at him to go ahead and pull the trigger. My Mom's problems with him would be over after the cops arrested him. I stood proud and defiant as any 23 year old with nothing to lose would. I never thought for a second that the trigger could be pulled and I would be gone. My only thoughts were with my Mom and how he was trying to control her and her belongings. Backtracking just a bit in the story to explain, he and Mom got married and inside a month he was wanting her to sign over everything she owned to him. Now she didn't own much but had lived for more than twenty years alone and was quite independent. She never signed the documents he wanted and the day he pointed the gun at me we were having a yelling match about this very subject. We were to discover several years later he had tried to do this with several other ladies and would eventually be prosecuted for the deceptions he lived. I never trusted him and was wary of the gifted car later. He tried to take it back but I had already signed and processed the title with the state of Utah. So now I was the owner of a 1962 Ford Falcon station wagon with a gas gauge that didn't work and you kept track of oil mileage along side of the gas mileage. This was the car that would get me from Utah to North Carolina the fall of 1984. I was reading Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" and I was working in a dead end job setting appointments for Jeremy Ranch. Not a fun job just call and give the spill and decide on the date. A monkee could have done this better than I was doing. One morning I realized I needed to hit the road in order to change my life.I literally walked in the front door at work and out the back. I kept walking all the way to the Avenues until I arrived at Mike's place. Throw me a party because I'm leaving SLC as fast as they will give me my paycheck I told him. We partied that night like there was no tomorrow. I'm sure no one believed I would ever really leave. But they had not been reading "On th Road". Two days later the Falcon was packed with everything I owned and I was saying good bye. I hit the road rolling and singing the Willie Nelson's song, "on the Road Again" inside the Falcon, Jack's book "On the Road" by my side on September 20th 1984.