Unless there are more than one 1962 four-door custom Chevrolets in NYC (which would make me that much happier), I finally came across the car that captivated me cameraless months ago. The glittering face, revealed. The red stripe, revealed. The car was moving in traffic and only showed itself for a few moments, not unlike the last time I saw it, but my mind was caught up in taking a picture, getting the focus right, the exposure right, the car itself was secondary. I somehow stumbled upon the car later that same day and the mystery that had enthralled me earlier was gone, replaced with some hunter’s satisfaction in bagging a prize and some lasting wonder of its beauty and of its state of maintenance. It still felt a little otherworldly and fantastic, and that is what made me the happiest in finally catching up with this 1962 Chevrolet once more.