The 1978 convertible Cadillac soars down the freeway like a fat cigar boat on still water.  Mom, in the front passenger seat, wraps a floral silk scarf around her long wavy red hair.  She knots it tightly under her chin; the tail end flaps in the wind and gently laps at her cheek and neck.  Dad with one arm out the window smoothly glides the vehicle with his fat right palm planted squarely at noon on the steering wheel.  Read more...