vehicular homicide and carnapping

I am not a car person. By that, I mean I don't know anything about them. Don't care to. Don't notice what other people drive. Don't care what I drive as long as it doesn't embarrass me . . . and has a/c and a cd player. :o)


Kevie-poo has been driving for some 10 weeks now. He does not like driving. Neither does my daughter. I don't get it. I really like driving. I love road trips. I want to be the one behind the wheel. The cowboy says it's because I'm a control freak. I think it's because my brain is so used to multi-tasking I don't know what to do with myself when I am in passenger-mode. Anyway . . . I credit Kevin's lack of enthusiasm for driving to two factors: 1) He is driving my green Taurus, not exactly the coolest car on the block, and 2) I don't allow him to listen to music during this training phase. And since Kevin is all about the tunes, he would rather I drive so he can jam.

All this blogging about cool cars reminds me of my first car: A red 'vette. Seriously. Was given to me when I was 19. (Hey, didn't Prince sing a song about that?)

She was pretty.
Two-door.
Gray interior.
Keyless ignition.
Dull paint job.
Used more oil than gas.
Cool hatchback.

Oh, did you think "CORvette"? I meant "CHEvette". The best thing about it was if you pedalled really hard, you could hit 55 going downhill, just like the Flintstones! And the keyless ignition just meant it was so worn out that you could start it just by turning the ignition-thingy. Which, being a college student, was kinda handy because I didn't have to carry around my keys with me.

However, once my guy friends at the student center discovered this quirky little issue about my 'vette I started "losing" my car. Or rather, they started "stealing" my car and hiding it in various places around campus. So, I would leave class on a rainy day, run to the parking lot to jump in my car only to find . . . no car. Well, lots of cars, actually . . . just not mine! So, there I would stand in the middle of campus, looking very Sissy-Spacek-in-Carrie-like (just soaked in rain, not pig's blood), pitifully wondering which direction to go to start looking for my lost little vehicle.

Nothing quite like practical jokes and good friends.