On April 29, 1934 it was sitting in the driveway of the Warren home in Topeka. And then it wasn't. Neighbors reported that a man and a woman had been circling the block in a blue Plymouth coupe, disappeared for awhile, then reappeared with the woman driving and the man standing on the passenger-side running board. The man jumped off, they said, climbed into the Warren's car, and started it. (Ruth had left the keys in the ignition.) The mystery woman parked the Plymouth, got out and into the Ford, and the pair sped away. The Warren's new car had just been stolen by Bonnie and Clyde.
Bonnie Parker was a pretty good little writer herself. And clearly prescient. In her poem, "The Story of Bonnie and Clyde," she ends it this way...
Some day they'll go down together;
And they'll bury them side by side;
To a few it'll be grief
To the law a relief
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde...
But you know, when you think about it, every car has a story, a tale it could tell of the people it's carried, the places it's been, the adventures or misadventures it's had... (Some cars, though -- like some people --
are just waaay more interesting than others.)