She was a sweet curvy little machine painted racing blue. Her interior featured red leather bucket seats without frills. She wasn't made for high top end speed. She was lithe, agile and pounced from corner to corner.
A quick little tap on the brakes would set her turn angle. Then she could be driven by counter-lock steering and the accelerator pedal. She was a '58 Porsche 356A Coupe named Sally. She was parked and locked safely at the side of the street.
He went inside a favorite haunt for a quick beer. Then some drunk sumbitch plowed a half ton pickup into her side, killing her.