I saw one the other day. A 1938 Chevrolet! I knew it had to be a 1937 or ’38 because I have very vivid memories of one pretty much like it when I was growing up. Only the one I saw was redone and shiny and new looking! Ours, best I could remember, was a drab black ’38 Chevy!

We were mortified to go anywhere in it because it was made the same year I was born. Imagine being a teen-ager and riding everywhere in a car that is your age!

Today, a car that old in a family would probably be recognized as a classic. To us, it was just an old car. Truth be told, we were ashamed of it.

We begged and pleaded with Daddy to buy a later model car, but he held firm because it was still a good car. People didn’t buy a new car every year because cars of that vintage were constructed so well that they lasted forever. People also didn’t go as much and put as many miles on cars as they do now.

That old Chevy was as much a part of our family as old Reddy, the family cow who provided us with milk for so many years.

When my brother got his driver’s license and was allowed to take the car out, he thought if he could just do enough to the old car, it would stop running and Daddy would buy a new one. All his efforts were in vain. It drove like a dream, even in old age — and absolutely refused to die.

Imagine how thrilled we all were when one day Daddy drove up in a white Chrysler. It wasn’t new, but it was a lot newer than the Chevy. It was a pretty fancy car for that time and we were very pleased to have a more modern car. And a white one at that! Everybody had black cars!

How proud we were to go riding in a pretty white car! We felt so good about that “new” car. We couldn’t believe Daddy had finally caved in and bought another car.

Daddy came to a decision about the Chevy. Since it was still such a good car, he kept it. My brother Bill was old enough to drive, so he sort of claimed it for his own.

After he finished high school and went to work at the paper mill, he needed something to go work and the Chevy was the perfect solution. He didn’t mind driving the car, knowing there was a better one at home.

Actually, the car soon became his for good. He painted it a pretty dark blue and the car was at once dubbed “The Blue Goose.”

Once the bane of his existence because it was so old, he was now so proud of that car. When he and Daisy married in 1954, he drove it several more years before trading it off. It was still running and still a good car.

I’ve written about the Blue Goose several times over the years and it would be good to know if somewhere somebody has given it new life. Maybe it is the one you will see at the next classic car show or the one I saw recently. We’ll never forget the Blue Goose.

So what happened to the white Chrysler, the shiny newer model that replaced the Blue Goose? The one we were so proud of?

Who knows?

It holds absolutely no memories.

Retired Lifestyle Editor Bob Ann Breland, a resident of Pine, writes a weekly column and may be contacted at bobann_b@yahoo.com.