Back in January of ’51 Clifford and Earnest, best friends since their time together in junior high at Our Lady of Immeasurable Concern, packed up Cliff’s old Plymouth Cranbrook and headed to New Mexico for an extended weekend ski trip.
 
It started snowing outside Lubbock. By Amarillo it was a full blown blizzard and Cliff could barley keep the Cranbrook on the road. They agreed to pull over the next time they saw what looked like it might offer some warmth and safety.
 
Moments later they spied a farmhouse off the road and made their way up the drive. An attractive woman answered the door, startled at the strangers in the storm. They inquired whether they might be able to stay the night, as the roads were practically impassable.
 
“I understand your situation, and would like to help,” she explained, “but I am recently winowed. If I were to invite you in to stay the night the neighbors would talk. I have already gone through enough trauma.”
 
“Don’t worry.” Earnest replied. “We’d be happy to stay in the carriage house out back. If we get a break from this storm, we’ll be gone before daybreak.”
 
She took pity and agreed.
 
They pulled the Plymouth into the carriage house and parked it next to her brand new Cadillac Series 62 Sedan and closed the door behind them. The Corinth Blue Cadillac was the second most beautiful thing they had ever seen since graduating junior high, the young attractive widow in the house being the first. Both the sedan and the widow shared similar points of interest when viewed straight on.
 
The fins at the back and the luxurious interior of the Caddy put Cliff’s old Plymouth to shame.
 
By morning the storm had subsided and they made their way west. The time spent on the slopes made the dangerous trip they had made worth every minute and they both returned to Fort Stockton satisfied and rested.
 
Perhaps a bit too satisfied.
 
About nine months later Earnest received an unexpected certified letter from the attorney of the widow from Amarillo.
 
He stopped by Clifford’s house later that night. “Cliff, do you recall the night we had to stop in Amarillo during the snowstorm on our way to go skiing?”
 
“Sure I do.”
 
“Is there any chance you got up during the night and went into the house and paid that young widow a visit?” Earnest asked.
 
Clifford squirmed just a bit in his chair. “I have to admit, I did.”
 
“And did you happen to give her my name at the conclusion of your encounter, instead of your own?” Earnest inquired.

Clifford turned as red as tomato. “Yeah. I did. Sorry buddy. But how did you know?”
 
“She just died and left me everything.”
 
Earnest drove the Cadillac for years. While they each had fond memories of they very first evening they saw the beautiful car, Earnest’s lasted a whole lot longer than Clifford’s did. And got better mileage.