An Ode to the Ford Pinto from Netflix's 'Stranger Things'

As I binge-watch the second season of the Netflix scifi series Stranger Things, I've noticed a character popping up frequently.  It's not one of the adorable kids who use large walkie talkies to communicate with each other and ride their dirt bikes to get around their Indiana town as they look for (or run from) demogorgons.

I'm talking about an unsung cast member - the 1976 green Ford Pinto, driven by Winona Ryder's character Joyce Byers.  

The car has appeared in almost every episode this season. You see it whenever Joyce rushes to and from work and home or to her son Will's school in panic mode (which is how Winona Ryder has deftly played the mom character in both seasons.)

The car has some dents which may speak to Joyce's current economic situation - a single mom of two.

But the Pinto has caught my attention this season because, well, I think it's cute. It also revs up some auto nostalgia.

Growing up in Miami Beach in the 1980s (just like the main characters of Stranger Things) I remember seeing these little Pintos everywhere. They were mostly driven by elderly residents. Miami Beach was a huge retirement haven for the elderly at the time. And the cars reminded me of a cute turtle on wheels because of their round shape and the big round headlights which looked like a pair of surprised eyes. The car was the ultimate affordable hippie mobile.

The Pintos also reminded me of the bright orange Pinto that was a mainstay on another series, the former ABC primetime detective series Charlie's Angels.  Diehard fans may remember that the car was driven by Sabrina Duncan, the brainy angel played by Kate Jackson and then later by her replacement Shelley Hack who played Tiffany.  If you were a closeted gay kid, you either wanted to be one of the angels or own one of their Fords. As a hardcore car geek with a subscription to Popular Mechanics, I wanted Sabrina's orange Pinto. Really.

And because I was a fan of the show and a fan of small hatchbacks, I wanted one of these vehicles later on in high school.

But I also remember the Pintos were problematic.  In 2012, a Los Angeles Times listed the car as one of the worst ever in the US.

The model was prone to exploding when hit from behind because the gas tank was in the rear.

And according to Popular Mechanics magazine, about 1.4 million of the cars and its sister version the Mercury Bobcat were recalled by Ford so workers could install plastic shields to protect the tanks from catching on fire. (I ended up getting a used 1982 light blue Honda Accord as my first car, in case you were wondering.)

As the years went by, the Pintos faded away, often turning up in junkyards. I rarely see them on the road. About three years ago, I spotted a green Pinto just like the one in Stranger Things on Interstate 95 just north of Providence. It looked like it was in decent shape as it rolled down the highway (I followed it as much as I could to get a better look.)

About a year ago, I saw another Pinto with big sporty tires fueling up at a gas station in Miami's Coconut Grove. I was impressed by how the car had endured all these years. It still looked cool in a retro way (at least to me.) I smiled as it receded in my rear view mirror.

So the Pintos are still around, here and there and online on the Netflix show. I wonder if the Byers' Pinto will return for a third season and what stories it has to tell.

   

Summer reads

Since publishing my first novel Boston Boys Club in 2007, my books have been associated with summer. They're light, fun and breezy reads, perfect for the beach or pool (and they make for good towel weights too.)

As I set my sights on finishing my next novel (working title is Six Neckties because it's my sixth book and the theme revolves around New England and Miami weddings), I hope you or one of your friends may consider one of my five novels for your summer travels.


The books are available on Amazon, at some Barnes and Noble stores, Books and Books in Coral Gables and Calamus Books in downtown Boston.  Happy summer and happy reading!

Below is a sweet review of the Spanish version of Take the Lead or Tomar La Iniciativa.  Gracias Gaby Franz por leer mi libro. :)

Debo reconocer que cuando leí el resumen de esta novela no me llamó mucho la atención. Pero como Johnny Diaz era un autor que nunca había leído le di una oportunidad. Y sólo puedo decirles que amé esta novela.

Ha llegado a mis manos en un momento en mi vida en el que me hizo revivir muchas cosas pasadas con mi padre. Desafortunadamente falleció hace casi dos meses y sentí en carne propia muchas de las vivencias de Gabriel, el protagonista de esta fantástica historia.

Un relato muy humano, muy real, creíble hasta la médula.

Ha pasado a ser una de mis historias favoritas.

Me enamoré de la forma de escribir de Johnny, de su forma de sentir, de su forma de expresar tanto sentimiento contenido.

Quiero darle las gracias al autor. Sé que sólo es una única palabra para tantas que me ha dado, para tantos recuerdos que me ha hecho revivir y volver a sentir y reír y llorar al mismo tiempo.

Esta tal vez es una reseña algo extraña, pero sólo me sale escribir qué sentía mientras leía y cómo me sentí al llegar al final: paz, esperanza, dolor liberado, entendimiento.

So Kraven

A big thank you to Terrence Moss and Kraven, a San Francisco-based magazine, for the article on how I became "the accidental novelist."  The story is in the March/April issue.  (Click on the images to ENLARGE)

Writing old school

Whether I'm at Barnes and Noble or Dunkin' Donuts in Coral Gables/Miami, I sometimes prefer to go old school - I write by hand. I've been doing this with my sixth book lately and I find that the writing f-l-o-w-s in a different way.

I really think about what I am going to put down on paper instead of letting my fingers loose to waltz across the keyboard of my laptop in a hyper creative rush.  In a world where we constantly type and thumb messages on our smart phones, writing by hand is a welcomed change of pace, a throwback even if my writing looks like chicken scratch that only I can decipher.  I'm finding that I am writing more scenes and dialogue when I use a pen than when I use the keyboard. No Wi-Fi required either.

Of course, I then have to input what I wrote by pen into the computer. When I do that, I continue the process of editing and rewriting.

Another benefit to writing by hand - it's low-tech and lightweight. I can do it at the coffee shop or on my red sofa while watching reruns of Knight Rider and Charlie's Angles on COZI TV. (Talk about old school!)  My memo pad is much lighter than my laptop.  And my battery never runs out.

PS
I also like using pens from the Hampton Inn. They never seem to run out of ink and they're pretty smooth.

Living la Pura Vida

"Oh....my...GOD!" I kept saying out loud, as we drove up, up and up the winding curvy mountain road in Costa Rica.

"There are no guardrails!" I continued, looking beyond the road's edge inches away. I tightly gripped the frame of our rented Hyundai SUV and just held on. But once I got over my fear of heights (and I let go of being a backseat driver on these narrow roads) I enjoyed the view and it was quite a stunner. The rolling plantations of coffee trees that unfolded like a fabrics of green and brown. The cloud-covered peaks of trees in the near distance. The sight of black and white spotted cows that happily lingered and munched on acres of land. The central valley capital of San Jose unspooled below where small tiny dots of cars (mostly 1990s Toyota Tercels and Nissan Sentras) descended the sloped city streets.

After years of flying back and forth between Miami-Boston-Providence to visit family and friends, I finally dusted off my passport and changed up my travel itinerary.

 I wanted to experience some place different, break out of my routine (an ongoing goal of mine). But I ventured to Costa Rica for another good reason. I wanted to see where my boo (let's call him Leaf because he's private like that) was from. To better understand someone, it's not enough to speak their language and listen to their stories and experiences. You need to see where they're from because our hometowns beat and reside within all of us and say so much about who we are. Mine happens to be Miami (and then Boston.) I wanted to experience Costa Rica through his olive-green eyes. In fact, Costa Rica was a vibrant living poem of green and light and I noticed many Costa Ricans' eyes shared similar shades of green with hints of brown.  Their eyes easily matched the green of the lush rain forests that we drove past, the pale green leaves of the papaya plants that sprouted mightily from the roadside farms and the bright green of the moss that caked the rocks of the cascading waterfalls at La Paz Waterfalls Gardens .That was also quite a sight and a wet one too. The pounding force of five waterfalls created swirls of soothing mist throughout the trails and an unforgettable liquid roar. (Speaking of, we had fun hiking in the rain and I'm glad I had my black hoodie handy.) I remember how I extended my arm and felt the power of the cool rushing water and I couldn't get enough of inhaling the fresh pure air. Ahhh!

At one point, I leaned back from a pedestrian bridge and saw right through the backside of the falling water, a glass liquid sheet. It was like looking through an underwater lens. Besides the waterfalls, there was an indoor butterfly garden that reminded me of a greenhouse but solely for these majestic winged creatures that fluttered all around, as if welcoming us into their butterfly world. In fact, Costa Rica extended that warm welcome mat throughout my few days there.

One of my favorite stops was the surrounding areas of the Arenal Volcano about three hours north of San Jose. The volcano is so wide, so high, so massive that I found myself staring trance-like at all the plaited trails from former lava flows and the layers of dense rain forest that hugged them.

Although the peak was mostly shrouded by a never-ending conga-line of puffy grey clouds, the volcano was unmissable. Wherever I turned, it was there, looming in the background like a giant cone-shaped moon, an ethereal presence. The Arenal area hotels have funneled some of the volcano's hot water into small lagoon-like springs. Toe by toe, I carefully waded into the muy-caliente water that hinted of sulfur.  But once I adapted to the hot temps, I leaned my head back against the rocky edge and allowed the rising steam work its wonders. (On a side note, Leaf said that these waters have a healing element because they are rich in minerals and I felt more relaxed and Zen-like after sitting in these springs. Maybe a little bit too relaxed because I had to use the bathroom as soon as we got out. Sorry, TMI)