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Contest: Please help me drum up some excitement for the April 27 launch of “Cars from a Marriage.” Enter the contest. RULES: Become a fan of my Facebook page and post your best story about love and cars there by April 27. By doing so, you give me permission to use your story (with your initials only) on my blog and website. Stories should be 150 words, max. First prize (determined totally subjectively) is an engraved iPod nano. All entries will also be entered into a random drawing, in which I’ll give out three hard-cover copies of the new book.

Read some of the entries.

My parents separated when I was 12, but they’d been fighting loudly for years by then. Mostly I remember the raised voices, and the slammed doors, the hiding behind my bedroom door with the sliver of light from the hallway shining into my room. There was one night though, a memory that surfaces at just the right moment, when they were quiet, their voices kept low and calm. We’d been visiting my grandparents in Greenwich and it was late when we started back to the City. I was little and the back seat of our Pontiac Bonneville with the souped up engine was long and wide. My dad rolled up his coat as a pillow and I stretched out, unhindered by seatbelts in 1963. The thump thump of the wipers and the hushed tones of my parents filled my world as I fell asleep. – T.W.

When my husband and I got married, I had a 1979 Trans Am, which he adored (he swears not as much as he adored me, but im suspicious). Life happened, babies, a house etc. , and we had to sell it. He stood in the driveway as the new owner pulled away, it was awful. Fast forward 15 yrs, his brother called me, had found an exact copy of that car, I buy it to surprise him. The car needed a little work, he is lovingly restoring her, engine done, interior done, now “his baby” just needs her exterior painted. We spend weekends looking for parts, driving to some freaky places, car people can be very strange indeed. But we’re having the time of our lives. Oh and, completely embarrassed ourselves by getting caught by the police parking in this car. “Yes Officer, I’m fine”. egad. It has to be the car, right? – L.H.Z.

It was 1987 and we were on our way to David’s cousin’s wedding in Baltimore. I was driving David’s little red Toyota Tercel and we had a blowout on the highway. I was able to get us off the road, without getting us killed and we both changed the tire. When we got back on the road, David proposed to me. – L.L.


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