So, last week driving Mustang Sal on Main Street through Royal Oak, this middle-aged guy on a Yamaha motorcycle pulled up next to me at a red light. “Nice car,” he said. I was flattered and rather pleased that he hadn’t called me ma’am. Or sir, for that matter. For the record, it’s happened. At Kroger, Costco, McDonald’s drive-thrus. Whatever. Darn N-95 masks. Plus, I had just gotten a haircut and was wearing a black baseball cap with a silver pony embroidered above “MUSTANG” in red letters. Looking like a brother from another mother, I turned my head, smiled and asked if he owned a classic car. He said that he…