Wednesday, March 3, 2010
My cars have always been boys
I recently bought a new car. A Black 2008 Pontiac G8. It's quite a fast car, and one night after I first bought it, I took Rachel out for a spin. At one point, I was trying to pull out into traffic. So I put the hammer down, and let the engine take over. Rachel was in awe of the cars power ( or so I like to think) and she was quick to name it The Batmobile. The name has stuck and is always referred to as the Batmobile. Since being named, Rachel has decided she wants to recant the name or take it back what you will. She states that every time she sees the name of the dealership on the back of my car "Belle-Wasik" she thinks of Belle Watson from the book Gone with the Wind. For those of you not familiar with the story, Belle Watson was the red headed town whore, who ran the brothel that Rhett Butler frequented. She is adamant that the car be called Belle Watson. I on the other hand refuse to rename it, one being that the Batmobile is an awesome name, and two my cars have always been boys.
My first car was an 88 Buick Lesabre. It had a tape deck, the driver side window would not roll down, and if the service engine light was not on you had a problem. My license plate read TED 362 and so the Lesabre was christened Ted. My friends and I still managed to order fast food we would just use the rear passenger window or walk up, apparently now they do not allow this practice. I eventually saved up some money and bought a new car.
It was a 96 Cutlass Supreme. I loved that car! A key selling point aside from the remote car start, which in Michigan is necessary, was the fact that it at one time had a been a stolen car. It made the car seem more bad ass. Even though it had been recovered it had been stolen at one point, not many people can say that about their car. Rachel and I would take freedom rides in the Cutlass all the time. One day we just so happened to be taking a trip to Port Huron. As we were cruising down the road at normal speeds might I add. Out of no where a pheasant flies up and was careening towards my windshield. We both screamed at the top off our lungs and ducked., The ducking part may not have been the smartest thing for me (the driver) to do as I was driving but it was my gut reaction. I hit the brakes but it was too late. The pheasant slammed into my windshield. Luckily it had not shattered through the glass, just cracked the windshield. We were safe. I drove my car to the insurance company, that just so happened to be on the way to Port Huron. Rachel was the first to get out of the car, and she said "Anne you have got to see this." I was preparing myself for the worse, a pheasant head hanging off the windshield. I looked, the only traces of the incident were a few feathers and some blood. Rachel and I kicked around some names for the car, all revolving around the word pheasant. Nothing seemed to fit, then one of us said "The Blue Goose". Thus the Cutlass was named.
Many miles later, the Blue Goose was sold, and I began to drive a hunter green 98 Cadillac Deville. What a sweet ride, that car was fully loaded and ready to cruise. That fall as I was heading back to Rochester one night, three deer ran out in front of me. I unfortunately clipped the last deer. It was only fitting that it be named the Deer Hunter.
Eventually I moved back home and so I had to get a more fuel efficient car. Thus enters the Saturn Ion. It was silver and it was a zippy little car with suicide doors. When I went to pick up the car, the plates read "BLU 3566. So the car was named Little Boy Blue. Nothing really interesting happened to the car for the time that I had it, so the name was all it had.
So now you see that all my cars were boys. Sorry Rachel the Batmobile wins over Belle Watson. My car is a class act, not a prostitute from a story.