Pontiac memories

• My dad brings me to a car dealership, where he buys a new 1963 Pontiac Laurentian. On the drive home, I see my sister walking down the street. So I hang out the window and scream, "Hey, look, we got a new car!"



• My dad, mom, sister, and I pile into the Pontiac for a trip through the Gaspé peninsula. I sit in the front seat, eating a dinner roll, feeling crazy happy.



• Often, when I walk home from school, I stop to gape at a black '64 Pontiac Bonneville. Twenty-five years later, I marry the niece of the guy who owned the car.



• Pontiac announces its 1965 models. I cut out the pictures from a magazine and show them to everyone.



• My brother-in-law comes to visit in his dad's 65 Pontiac Grand Prix convertible. The black seats get scorching hot in the sun and scald the back of my legs. The car has a tachometer, which I mistake for an accelerometer.



• I get my first GTO model kit.



• I dream that I will become a priest when I grow up. Not just any priest, but a real cool priest with sideburns who cruises the neighborhood in a black GTO with chrome mags.



• I get my second GTO model kit.



• Our neighbor buys a Pontiac 2+2. My friend calls it a land yacht.



• I see a two-page ad for the GTO, which says that the letters stand for Gran Turismo Omologato. A friend tells me that they came up with the name first and then came up with an explanation of what it stands for.



• I see a creamy white '87 Pontiac Bonneville and want one.

R.I.P. Pontiac.