Sunday, October 18, 2009
Do you name your cars?
I wished I had named my first car...a 1965 Ford Mustang. It was only a 6 cylinder. When you stepped on the gas, it might or might move and forget quick darting turns in traffic. I NEVER drove in Hollywood. They are already nuts there and would turn into breaks in traffic that Evil Knievel might think twice about. But I loved my car. Except when I didn't. I just remembered how many times after working late at Busch Gardens in the Valley, I would drudge out to my car smelling like hamburgers or cotton candy and then try to start it. I would pump and pump and pump.....and pump. My right calf muscle should have been twice the size of my left like some freak work-out accident.
But the car that I remember fondly was Suzy, our 1984 Honda Accord. We drove that car for almost 20 years. I loved Suzy. I learned to drive a 5 speed because of her. Thank God I learned in Lubbock, Texas, nice and flat. Nothing but short stubby cotton plants for miles. No hills to practice burning out the clutch on.
We moved from Texas to California and bought our first house, kind of at the outskirts of a growing city. It was the last housing bubble. Ah, me, such memories. Too bad Wall Street and the bankers have such poor memories.
There were empty fields all around our little group of a few hundred homes. Big, big empty fields. Filled with the stupidest squirrels. Right up there with the dumb bunnies. They were definitely not smart like the gopher from Caddyshack. One of my friend's mom thought that gopher was real by the way. She wanted to know how they trained it to do all that acting. Maybe we should have told her they offered the gopher exclusive rights to sell his story to the Enquirer.
Leaving the neighborhood was like playing whack a mole at the carnival....will you smack a squirrel or not? The first time I smooshed a squirrel I felt soooooo bad. The damn squirrel ran right out in front of me literally at the last minute. Do you know how hard it is to stop yourself from swerving and slamming on the brakes?
After about the fifth squirrel, I gave up. I figured this was Darwinism in action. Okay, you flea-bitten, dog-food-stealing, chirping noise maker, let's make a game out of it. It got to the point where you could see the little morons lining up on the side of the road. I would literally almost be crawling down the street ready to slam on the brakes, but no, they would wait and wait and wait and just when you thought you had made it past them....they would scamper at top speed into the street.
I wanted a sticker to put on the side of my car like a bad ass World War II flying ace going after the Nazis. A squashed nut? A squirrel tail? Start my own cargo cult with the cool painting I wanted to put on my little Honda.
I have a silver Honda Odyssey now. Still looking for a name for it though. No animal life mayhem with this one. Any ideas? Just keep in mind, though, in my imagination I drive a Bugatti Veyron. Vroom. Vroom.
Posted by Happy Hour...Somewhere at 2:36 PM