The first time Dean and I met, he was twenty-nine and I was all of five years old.
Still a child really, though I'd already covered many miles of asphalt bringing the word of the Lord to the working folk around the country.
That day in the used auto yard, Dean came right up to me, strolling through the rows of cars on show as if he knew me; knew exactly which car he wanted.
He didn't want me for himself however, not back then. He'd picked me out for his companion, another guy whom I'd noticed a few days ago inspecting a Volkswagen which he'd seemed intentioned to buy.
But clearly, the young stranger's advice to choose me instead had been taken to heart.
I never set eyes on Dean again until many years and many miles later when I was parked outside Lawrence General Hospital.
John had proudly carried his new-born son out through the main doors, his beautiful wife by his side.
A little family to be proud of, I mused as I watched them approach.
But with the joy of Dean's birth came an uncomfortable awareness, as the destiny of the Winchesters played out, that the young man I'd seen in the past was the very same as was growing to adulthood before my eyes.
I didn't pretend to understand the dynamics of the situation. After all, I'm a classic Chevy Impala, not Einstein, but my anxiety and trepidation grew exponentially as the years passed and I became solely Dean's.
Now I understood that Dean had chosen me not so much for his father back in nineteen seventy-three, but for his future self.
He knew I'd be his, though why and how he'd ended up back there, I was still to discover.