C is for Car
We had an old light blue, oh, light green, VW bug in our driveway for years. It was falling apart from below, so I used to have Fred Flintstone images. You know how he would run his feet underneath? We also had a green oldsmobile that I think Mom got into an accident with the dog in, but we were all ok. Oh, to be all ok.
And then I remember a little brown datsun that cost $6500. Which was zippy. And got us to and from a lot of classes, the cottage, swimming, school. We went swimming in the summers in Batavia at that one club down the road.
That's all I remember of cars. Those three. The ones after that weren't as important.
Now I have a nice red volvo that bounces too much. It bounces on bad roads more than is good for me. Bill's a very good driver, although reckless and wild. Reckless means no wrecks.
That's all I have to say about cars.
My dog loves cars. He once forced down a window to jump out at Meg in a parking lot of a hotel. Or was it Aimee? I don't know - Aimee or Meg in Chicago. Or was it you, Betsy? I think it was Meg. He rips up our backseat when he feels like it. Bad dog.
Good dog. Bad dog. Good dog. Bad dog.
Sigh.
That's all I have.
posted by X Bethlehem @ 3:30 PM
5 Comments:
i kinda remember that green bug. in batavia? was it by the basketball hoop with the net that rose, like, 26 feet above our not-at-all-bounce-friendly gravel drieveway? it's no wonder none of us went on to play that sport. i don't remember ever driving in that car. wonder if it ever moved.
and it was an olive green chevy nova. yeah, somebody ran a red light, and mom, meggoo, and bet (and fred) got in a crash in it. were we in it too? that car was seriously a tank. indestructable. i think everyone was home the next day. mom was so sad that she crashed with the little 'uns. but it wasn't her fault.
you remember how much to datsun was? i forgot all about that car. in my memory is mostly the nova. and that ford that i got stuck on a center median in palos. my only accident. very embarassing.
Roo jumped outta yer car at meggoo in the hotel parking lot when we were all in for the party celebrating momma's wack nuptials last winter. he was so excited to see her. Roo loves meggoo. but he loves you two more. he was so sad when i dogsat him over thanksgiving. he'd sign and "hmmmph!" despondently from his nest in the comforter all the time. well, all the time when he wasn't snoring.
i loved my last car. it was so reliable and pretty with mighty pickup and comfy seats that warmed up quick. now, i love not having a car. but i worry about my old car too, too much.
xo
oh, Louisa!
bet spent over 45 minutes writing comments, and you deleted all of them! then, you deleted my comments to you about it!
you bad girl.
O, Louisa has kept so many of my notes to herself. She keeps them because I think she knows how much time I spent writing them.
I remember the Datsun! Ahh, to be a car the color of shit! It was bouncy and momma drove like a demon in it!
I don't think of cars as being anyting all to significant in my life. For most of my lofe I lived without a car, and now. I have one, and I use it way too much. I would just park it, but now it is so cold, and sometimes it is nice just having a car to crawl into on a cold winter morning.
I love roo! He is the best dog! Too bad he and bruce are so affectionate with each other and they can't stay in the same room for very long. 2 BIG dogs! how wonderful! and little suki-suzuki! Break it down! I loved it when Beth and Jesse came up to visit me at the CIA for my birthday and we spent a good evening eating some wonderful italian foods, and then watched Suki break down huge tree branches outside my dorm. What a fun Birthday! They had a nice little suzuki or subaru or somethin.
I have a 88 Ponitac Bonneville. It is running great, if you must know, And yet i am on edge. YOu never can tell if a car that old will hold up for a long time. Its already 16! well past its golden years.
But for Aimee, her lovely Volvo is all nice and cozy in grandma and poppas garage. All snuggled up with a bog cover and it will be there until momma gets her act together and decides if she needs it.
BUt all is good. Please look for a package from me soon. It should get to you by Thursday!
Woo hoo!
Hooray for boxes in the mail!
I am so happy to see jolie bogging away!
and that she has such odd memories of our cars from long ago!
ok, I'll try again. Can't be angry at the blog forever. I mean Louisa.
So, cars.
I remember riding in the bug once and seeing the road whizz by beneath our feets, standing up in the tiny backseat space. Mom always had a thing for bugs. Wonder if dad got that car for her, intending to fix it up. I think that was the only ride that car ever took.
My first car when I left home was grandma and poppa's old "purple" cadillac. It wasn't purple, but grandma was starting to lose her sight, and could pretend it was. And tell others it was. I guess they gave this car to Dad, or he bought it, when they got their minivan. Dad drove it for a year or so, and then one day when I was home visiting from Cincinnati, he gave it to me. I had just quit college and had accepted a job across the river in Newport, Kentucky, which was a bit of a bus ride away. I didn't at all suspect I would be given a car, and was really surprised when Dad told me to take his. Soon I was cruise-controlling down the road in this monster not-purple caddy, driving back to Cinti.
I didn't know a thing about cars. After Dad bestowed the caddy upon me, he reached into the trunk of his other car, some nappy white ford or something, and pulled out some license plates, which he screwed into the cadillac. I didn't receive any instructions on car registration, emissions, or maintenance issues. As far as I was concerned, I was good to go for the long haul.
I was glad for that car. Didn't realize how many doors a vehicle could open in a town. I really saw Cincinnati and, of course, Kentucky. I could get back and forth from Chicago for home visits, rather than enduring nightmarish Greyhound bus rides which inevitably set on fire or surrounded me with screaming babies or wailing crazies. Driving through the Cincinnati ghetto, I was stopped by some gangstas who offered me $1000 for the car if I'd give it up there and then. I had too much stuff in the car, and said no, but really should have taken it because trouble was to come. A couple months later, the police woke me up at my apartment asking if the cadillac belonged to me. I said yes, and they said that the license plates had been reported stolen, and that I needed to figure out what was going on quick. I made some frantic phone calls, as none of us really knew what Dad was doing those days, and finally located Dad flipping burgers at McDonalds in Palos Heights. He called the police station to straighten things out, and the police told me what I had to do to register the plates in my name.
That's not all. I didn't know you had to put oil in a car. I didn't know anything about antifreeze or radiators. Soon I knew that they smoked for mysterious reasons, and that something was making the caddy slow to a crawl when attempting an upward climb. Over 1 year of car ownership later, a friend asked if I'd ever had an oil change. A what? Well, needless to say, I'd ruined the engine. This was made worse by Meg moving into town and taking the car on day-long roadtrips, despite her promising to only drive it locally. She of the wild hair. The caddy's engine seized once, I got it towed and running again. A week later, it wouldn't start, and there it was left for the city: the not-purple caddy, parked indefinitely in front of Meggie's Cincinnati apartment.
My next car was subsidized by Mom and Grandma, a red 1995 Honda Civic hatchback with 80-some thousand miles. I (or they) paid $2000 for it. A wonderful little car, my first manual. This time I knew what not to do and took great care of it. Jesse came into my life soon after, and he eagerly took over all the maintenance. That little car went from Cincinnati to Denver, Denver to the midwest and back, Denver to New Orleans and back, on multiple mountain road trips, and lastly Denver to NYC. I left it with Jess when I left Denver, because everyone knows that there's no place for a vehicle in Manhattan, unless you're a glutton for punishment. Didn't stop him from bringing it out when he moved in to my Chelsea studio apt. Parking it was such a pain. Had to move it every couple days, and we only used it to get to the beach every couple weeks. I just wanted away from cars at that point. Jesse is an extremely aggressive driver, and his usual yelling and gesticulating at other drivers was compounded on the highways of New York, where everyone was a maniac. So I was glad when it was stolen after we parked it in front of the projects. It was found a week or two later, and the city told us we had to pay for multiple days of impounding, with a final bill close to $1000. I said forget it, keep it. Another one for the city.
Then we had a blue subaru station wagon which I liked very much because one could sleep in the back on road trips and rainstorms. Jesse wanted to upgrade, though, and now we have a little green subaru which i am somewhat embarrassed of. It has stained seats, a furry backseat from the dog (her domain), and no hubcaps. Jesse says they just fall off or get stolen. I think they make a car look presentable. We can't agree. It runs well, though. I have more important things to think about than cars, so I endure it. But really I want something snazzy and black.
That's enough. Phew.
i write too much, too long.
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