This afternoon, I answered the phone even though I didn't recognize the number.
There was a slight pause. "Grandma?"
I guess it was fitting. I'm feeling ancient. The recent passing of Ricardo Montalban isn't helping, either, as Mr. Roarke is supposed to live forever.
He had a really interesting life - pretty much created the Latin lover Hollywood stereotype, then created an organization to highlight Latino contributions to the film industry. He was married for 60-plus years. And, of course, there was Fantasy Island.
But I can't stop thinking about the soft, Corinthian leather.
And let me just say, one of my high school friends had a Cordoba, and the hood of "The Small Chrysler" was roughly the size of a tennis court. That car was gigantic and floated on air. We could fit a dozen people in there easily.
So, yeah, it was basically the best car ever. Ricardo would never lead you astray.