I rode a 1952 Bel Aire convertible in Cuba—and feel like a kid again in my father’s car. I am riding a 1952 Bel Aire convertible down the street in Havana, Cuba, feeling like a kid again. The ride surely brings back memories. That’s the car my father drove our
We were face-to-face as Marcelina clasped my cheeks and looked me in the eyes. “Two words: Moo-ee Boo-ā-no. Say it with me.” After several attempts, she smiled and repeated it as she shaped my mouth. “Muy bueno.” I thought I had been complimenting her on the tocino y huevos that
As soon as we spy her there at the curb, cherry-red and classically beautiful, we have to have her.
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