By Lori Kurtzman

They decide to put her in the top-down Maserati, a gorgeous cream-colored hunk of Italian metal parked along the northwestern edge of Goodale Park.

The driver pulls out a blanket, and the woman unzips her black leather boots. She climbs onto the chocolate-brown leather and sits between the two rear headrests. She can wave from there, cheer, call out to babies and dogs.

Her husband takes one of the rear seats. The Maserati pulls forward. "Deana Martin!" the parade announcer shouts, pronouncing it De-ANNA. Anyone who makes that mistake gets a swift, polite connection. 

Read more

Source: http://www.dispatch.com