If you need a friend – get a car.
This is a true story of enduring love, of friendships lost and found.
A story of the life-long connection between a girl and a machine.
I admit, I personify practically every non-human thing in this world. I talk to inanimate objects as though they were sentient beings with personalities and attitudes. I care about them, and I assume they care about me. We’re friends.
And my car is my very best friend. Car is always there when I need him. Always ready for adventure. He never refuses to do what I need him to do. He never gets bored with my conversation. He even endures my sometime neglect without complaining – much. Loyal – to the end.
Do You Have a Car Gene in Your DNA?
Does your head turn at the sight of a sleek and shiny sports car?
Do you dream of owning an old classic car wearing a ton of chrome?
Are car channels on YouTube one of your favorite ways to kill time?
Do you buy way too many accessories and detailing products for your old clunker?
Do you hang pictures of dream cars in your garage?
If your answer is yes, welcome to the world of those select humans whose DNA, by some mysterious process, has an extra gene attached. The car gene.
The Car Gene kicks in at an Early Age.
I’ve loved cars ever since I was a little girl. There’s no reason for this since I was an only child with no car enthusiast brothers to inspire me. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m convinced that the only explanation for my fascination and affection for cars is the presence in my DNA of a car gene.
Here’s a photo of me sitting on the Odegard Construction Company’s Dodge truck.
No, my dad didn’t put me up there to take a cute photo. I begged to sit up there. I was around six. If I look a little coy, it’s because I was shy of photos. But, boy, did I love that truck!
Sadly, the truck wasn’t mine. It belonged to my contractor uncle who only visited occasionally.
Our family car was a 1951 Chevy sedan. Lizzy! My Very first Car Friend.
Lizzy was two-toned just like the one in the picture. Only Lizzy had a green top.
Oh, the places we went, Lizzy and me! To the park, to the zoo, to Reno!
Why we went to Reno I never knew, only that it was a joy to spend days riding around with Lizzy. She was roomy enough for all my stuffed animals to ride in the back seat with me.
It was “See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet!”
My fascination drove me to regularly help my dad wash Lizzy, polish her up, and hang around while he tinkered with anything that needed tinkering.
If that isn’t a car gene at work, I don’t know what is!
Do you remember your first car? Of course you do!
If you are like me, your first car was the ticket to freedom.
Suddenly, I was on the road and on my own. No more riding the school bus. No more having my parents deliver me here and there.
I could roll the windows down, sing at the top of my voice, and just buzz around with no particular destination in mind.
Who gave me that exhilarating feeling of freedom? My car, of course!
If you had the car gene, like me, you did your research for that first car. One that spoke to your soul.
You dreamed the impossible dream.
My impossible dream was the 1961 Chevy Corvette.
The most exciting and classy Corvette of the 60s. Red, of course.
Don’t take my word for it. It’s a legend still.
https://vette-vues.com/the-legendary-1961-chevrolet-corvette-a-complete-guide-to-specs-and-options
Well, that Corvette was a car too far for a high-school girl.
I begged. I racked up a list of what I thought were perfectly logical reasons this should be my first car. My dad understood because he had the car gene too.
However, his head was not in the clouds like mine. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s too much car for you.” What he didn’t say was that it was also too much car for his pocketbook. That was a given.
We lived in the country, 8 miles from our small town in Washington, and most kids at the high school had some kind of car.
My dad went on a search for a set of wheels he felt I’d like and that wouldn’t turn me into a speed demon.
Guess what he found.
The 1961 VW Beetle in robin’s egg blue. My Bug.
Talk about getting attention! No one in my high school, or even in my town, had ever seen a VW. When I first rolled into the high school parking lot, heads turned, kids surrounded the car, and adults cracked up into laughter.
Bug had a rival for Most Interesting Car in the School Parking Lot.
A hot, 1958 Chevy Impala with fins to die for was aggressively cruising around town.
Gossip alert!
The guy who drove this car was not a student. He was a classic greaser who hung around the high school parking lot trying to pick up girls.
I swear, he looked just like Bobby Rydell. At least his hair did. And he probably broke as many hearts.
Well, he didn’t break my heart.
I only had a crush on his car.
But I was true to my Bug.
For two years Bug and I were inseparable.
He had a neat little canvas sunroof that rolled back to let anyone riding with me stand up and really feel the wind in their hair. Yeah, we did stuff like that back then.
Bug had no seatbelts. But he was surefooted on the road.
Especially the time when Bug and I hit an icy patch on that sharp turn on the way into town and nearly ended up in the river.
Do I owe him my life? Possibly.
When I graduated, it was California Car Culture Here I Come!
In the iconic year of 1963, I left Washington in my rearview mirror and headed for the Golden State. My college didn’t allow us to have a car until my Junior Year. Otherwise, we would all have been driving to the beach instead of studying.
And that’s exactly what I did as soon as I got Pip in 1966.
Yep. Pip was another VW. Green this time.
The color of the redwood forests, the palm leaves, the winter that was an eternal summer of green.
What do you think my favorite song was at that time? Here’s a hint.
“And she’ll have fun, fun, fun, til her daddy takes the T-Bird away.”
No, I didn’t have a T-Bird, but I certainly drove Pip like it was the Indy 500.
I took my boyfriend on Highway One to Stinson Beach one weekend and scared him half to death. That road has hair-raising hairpin turns, cliffside drop-offs, minimal guardrails, and gorgeous distracting views.
He was cool about it, but I could see him gripping the seat with white knuckles.
He must have decided he liked to live dangerously, because he’s stuck with me through decades of car adventures.
1970 – The Year of Explorations.
When George and I both finished graduate school in theater, of all things, we decided to go to Europe for as long as we could until we ran out of money. We sold Pip and bought yet another VW in Germany. This one was a convertible.
Here’s George peering out of the dusty windshield of that VW, determined to stay on the move.
We drove that car all over Europe for nine months, on some of the craziest roads we’d ever driven.
There was the one we took to see the Greek temple in Bassae.
Believe me, in 1970 the road to Bassae was a tire killer. Totally deserted. There was no one there except us. We imagined it was like it must have been in the nineteenth century when Byron came to help free Greece from the Ottoman Empire.
And then there was the time we followed the wrong road in what was then Yugoslavia and ended up at a high fence in the middle of the night.
The warning sign said that behind that fence was Albania. In 1970, Albania was under a communist regime with a totally paranoid leader who saw the West as his arch enemy.
Not wanting to spend the rest of our young lives in an Albanian prison, we hightailed it out of there as fast as our little VW could take us.
When You’re Living Bi-Coastal, You Gotta Have a Car.
Theater people go where the roles are. George and I, and our VW, buzzed around the country for several years, from Berkeley to Chicago, from Seattle to New York City.
I had the brilliant idea of driving across the country from Berkeley to New York in that VW convertible. A friend was moving to New York, and we drove in mini caravan style.
Her classic Karmann Ghia. In winter! Had an adventure of its own.
Needless to say, we had a couple scary moments. But, in spite of Mary’s car rolling into a ditch because of a very nasty big truck, both she and the little car survived to finish the trip.
Here I am leaning affectionately on my VW next to that brave little Karmann Ghia.
The Sad Demise of an Old Friend.
Our loyal VW convertible lasted from 1970 to 1985. He had been driven hard through some rough terrain and even rougher weather.
Like the time I was making the trip down the coast from Seattle to Berkeley and was forced to drive through a totally flooded road.
That car had been from Athens to Dubrovnik, from Firenze to Zermatt, from Scotland to Denmark, from New York to San Francisco, and all over the state of California.
Then, creeping rust from that flooded road did him in.
One night, we were driving back home from Berkeley to Oakland and the battery simply fell through the rusted floor of our poor, abused car.
It was the end. We had to give him up.
A tragedy for sure.
Don’t count out a Used Datsun 210.
I had never had a used car. But we were not exactly in the money in 1985. So, we bought a used Datsun 210.
I must say that car was a real find.
Datsun was the first car our son got to know. He grew from a little guy to a wild ten-year-old in that car. We all had some fun adventures in Datsun. And Datsun was a workhorse.
Red Guzzler.
Several years passed and it became obvious that we needed a car that could carry a lot more stuff around. Camping stuff, soccer equipment, all the paraphernalia of my interior design business.
Enter – Red Guzzler! Named for the massive amount of gas he required to take us on all our adventures. We leased him for six fabulous years.
Say what you want about families and minivans. I don’t care.
From one end of California to the other, Red Guzzler was the best travel companion.
What a car!
Is There Such a Thing as A Forever Car?
The answer is yes! And this is mine.
The Chrysler 300M! The best car Chrysler has made in the 21st century. Hands down!
My 300M is 25 years old. Yes! That’s right. Twenty-five!
There’s the forever dream home you never have to leave.
There’s the forever family for a child in foster care.
There’s a forever home for a pet.
There’s the forever love that stands the test of time and trouble.
Why can’t there be a forever car?
Why is my 300M my forever car? Let me count the ways.
- Stylish and sporty. He may not be a flashy sports car, but he’s not a boring box by any means. Remember, I’m talking about the 300M! not the Chrysler 300 which, in my opinion, is nothing but a condominium on wheels – bulky, boxy and boring. Why did Chrysler do that?
- The most comfortable interior I’ve found in a car. And, believe me, I’ve been in a lot of cars.
- Great acceleration even at 25. Okay, not quite like a Tesla Model S on “Insane” acceleration. But my 300M can pull it out up a hill when asked.
- That smile. It may be a bit whimsical on my part, but that cheerful smile on the grill lifts my sprits.
- And – he’s green. Green like a pine forest. Green like lush grass. Green like the envious eyes of people who wish they had a car like my 300M.
I’ll keep fixing him up, tweaking and fussing – forever.
Because –
When you are born with a car gene in your DNA – You care.