We've attended a few car shows this summer, the most recent one of Corvettes at the GM dealer. There's another one tomorrow in conjunction with Balloon Days. I find I'm always drawn to the older cars - a nostalgia thing I'm sure.
The first car I remember was the folk's '36 Dodge. And my first memory at age two is of having to sit in the back seat of it because the new baby was now in front with my mommy.
After that was the brand new '49 Plymouth bought when new cars became available again after the war years. It was the only new car my parents ever had. They went to Omaha to buy it. Our neighbors (the Firkin's) also got one. Ours' was dark green; theirs' was light green.
Few girls had their own car in high school. When I was a senior my older brother bought a '51 Plymouth Convertible to go along with his '50 Plymouth Coupe. Nice guy that he was, he let me drive the convertible occasionally.
I did not have a car that was "mine" until the mid 60's when Kenny and I bought a second car for me to drive to work. It was a dark red and white '57 Plymouth Belvedere 2-dr hardtop. I had it repainted black. It was my pride and joy. I loved that car.
Both cars were in Kenny's name. When we divorced he wouldn't let me have my car. I heard he sold it to someone for $50 to drive in a demolition derby. It broke my heart. I swore I would never love a car again.
Dad went with me to Red Oak where we found a '58 Ford station wagon for $225. He co-signed a note for me so I had a means of moving across the state to Mt. Vernon with my son to start a new life.
'Ole Betsy' served me well and I should have kept her. I wanted a newer car. As the saying goes, "the salesman saw me coming". I bought a '63 Mercury with a power rear window. The car was a worthless piece of c..p which I ended up paying off long after it quit running.
By then I was remarried and living in Des Moines. I was able to either walk to work or take a bus. But when we moved out to the acreage, I needed a car. My next 'Ole Betsy' was another Ford station wagon - a big old '67 boat with the cute little fold up seats way in the back.
After that, a '68 Plymouth Valiant; '69 Plymouth Fury; '73 Chevy Impala; '75 Plymouth Duster; '76 Chevy Impala and an '85 Dodge Aries station wagon used to make many trips to move Kari to Macalester College in St. Paul and around her different apartments and houses while there, eventually moving her and her cats back to West Des Moines.
My cars always had names - feminine names - cars and boats are always 'shes'. I wish I could remember all their names. Even the faithful little Aries' name is forgotten; something Irish...Fiona or Maeve.
The little '93 Ford Escort wagon I have now is 'Scilla'. As of January, I will have had her for 10 years. She's showing her age. I've been suffering 'new car fever' for some time now. Maybe in 2010?
When we picked up Bud's new black, 2005 Honda in Bellevue four years ago, we took her on a maiden voyage to western Nebraska - out to Chimney Rock and Scottsbluff area. Along the way we kicked around name ideas: 'Black Beauty', 'Black Magic', 'Mariah', 'The Black Mistress', and Morrigan among others. Finally Bud said, "I've got it: 'Sally'." (You history buffs and Jeffersonians should have no trouble figuring this out.)
Until I actually get a different car, I can't know what her name will be, but I'm thinking......
I love this! There's such a stereotype about boys and cars, people never stop to think about how much a girl can love her car(s)! I love imagining bookish Ramona, completely unaware what a teen goddess she is, cruising around in a '51 convertible. My goodness, Mom, you were probably some shy boy's Girl in the White Convertible and never knew it.
ReplyDeleteI also like following along and figuring out where I came into the picture. The '67 Ford is the first I recall, b/c I remember sitting in the Wayback, trying to get truckers behind us to toot their horns. And of course, the big green Impala I nearly put in the ditch the very first time you let me drive (13th birthday!), which we traded in b/c it got milk spilt in it once, and always smelled spoiled on hot days. And the Duster! Oh, the little yellow-n-black, ain't I a rockstar Duster. THAT one I got to drive by myself sometimes in high school...oh, I thought it was sexy!
Funny that I've only managed to have two cars of my 'own'--well, three, if you count the Briems' old Chevette. Jeeze...now I'm itchin' for something new, too!
I also want to say, for all I'm not having kids and always swore I wouldn't raise them rural if I did: getting to start learning to drive at 13, and being sent off ALONE in the car on your 14th birthday...kinda good arguments for the rural childhood.
ReplyDeleteLooking back, I imagine it was another of your attempts to impart independence and a sense of freedom/power to me. It sure worked, lady!