Hello! I am a 1964 Dodge 330 4-door sedan, VIN 4142216364, my name is The Goldeneagle. This site was created by my owner Wendy C. Allen of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, to save my life.
I am the main character of the original Twighlight Manor book, and a major supporting character of more that 30 other books and short stories by Maine author Wendy C. Allen.
I started out in life as a silver undercover Police car in Maine. In
1975 I retired from my job as a police car and was sent to Marcot Motors of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where I was painted gold by some fool with a paintbrush. He totally ruined my lovely silver paint job and left me streaked with brush lines. I was only there a few months before I was bought by the Allen family, who sanded me down and painted a lovely shade of metallic orange.I remained the faithful family chauffer for the next ten years. Together we drove on many road trips throughout the Northeast. In
1978, I took them to New York where we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge during its major repair construction. That same year we went to Washington D.C. I took the Allen family to Arcadia in Bar Harbor to see The Thunder Hole in 1981. Every year I drove them to New Hampshire where we visited The Old Man on the Mountain and Story Land and The Swift River. Three times I climbed Mt. Washington.I've brought home puppies and baby chickens. I waited in hospital parking lots and veterinary clinics. I remained forever and always a faithful friend. The only friend who was always there, steadfast and unmovable, silent and unjudgmental. My red plush seats always there like a shoulder to cry on when no one else would lend and ear or a shoulder. I alone remained to one true friend, the only friend to the child who loved me and defend me when no one else would put up with my breakdowns and failures.
Over the years I grew old and tired, my engine weak and my transmission failing. My last trip was a desperate trip to the hospital, one dark and stormy night in 1985 when a hurricane flooded the town, sending the Atlantic Ocean over the Pier and up Maine Street. My last trip came when the Old Orchard Beach ambulances couldn't ride faster than my Mopar engine and Mrs. Allen had to be rushed to the hospital at 3AM. We speed through Old Orchard faster than ever before, through hurricane floods that went higher than my door panels seeping water into my interior and flooding my floors, filling my transmission and engine with icy salt water, we made it to the hospital with Mrs. Allen, but I did not make it back home on my own and was towed home by a friend's little VW Rabbit.
In spite of my loyalty, with a dead transmission and an engine full of salt, I was useless, and parked in the yard, put up for sale for junk.
I was rescued from a trip to the junkyard in 1985 by 9 year old, Wendy C. Allen, after my trans died. Since 1985 I have remained a decoration on the hill in her rose garden, where she sits in my seats or on my hood to write the stories in which I appear. Without me, she cannot write these stories for I am the one that inspires them. I have been happy in my life of peace and rest here in Old Orchard Beach these past 30 years. That has now changed.
New town ordinances and zoning laws have been set in Old Orchard Beach. As a result the police, the code enforcement officers, and the town manager are now in attempt to see my death and destruction, with threats of stealing me from my rightful owner and sending me to become scrap metal in the junkyard.
This is an outrage! They well not listen to reason.
My profile now comes to you to spread the word and ask for your help in saving my life. An entire network of websites devoted to my plight are now in the works and links to them well be added here within the next few hours.
Please join the protest and put an end to the Old Orchard Beach reign of terror. Old Orchard Beach is a town not a dynasty, they have no right to take me from my home and kill me!
PLEASE DON'T LET THEM KILL ME!!!!!
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