Chevette
Shade
Our
totaled 2006 Ford Taurus arose (reincarnated may be a better word) in a white
1995 Nissan Altima.
Come
to think of it, it's really the ghost of my mother's old Chevy Chevette. That car took a beating hauling food, people
and even furniture. Like
Mom's brown Chevy, our new but very used Altima jiggles and clunks with its
rust-worn doors and spunky little motor.
As it bucks into gear, I realize I've become my mother. Neither of us like driving. Memories of nasty break downs on the side of
the road would make any technically challenged old gal panic driving a vehicle
with mysterious mechanical issues.
So
far so good, though. The only
disabilities are: broken gas gauge (I don't own a cell phone, so hubby is
bracing for a call from an unknown number with my voice pleading for gas),
sunroof doesn't retract (doesn't leak though, bonus!); the overhead light
rattles if I remove the tattered cardboard air freshener that's wedged into it;
wing of visor actually flaps when in use; if turning the key while in park
doesn't turn over the car, putting the control in neutral will. And like us grandmas, the smell an old car
gives off makes one glad all the windows work.
To
keep this mobile ghost friendly, on its rearview mirror I hung the same wooden
cross that swung in front of me during the accident. I'm still debating removing the air freshener
wedge and replacing it with a cross I made from palm given out last Sunday at
church. I added a trusty umbrella to the
back seat, an Aldi quarter to the side compartment and shopping bags to the
trunk. Since all cars look alike to me
except for their size and color, I wrapped a bright orange pipe cleaner around
the Nissan's antenna to save time finding it in a parking lot glowing with
small white cars.
I'm
trying not to be super religious or superstitious in my blessing of the
auto. But, not taking any chances, my
first trip was to church. The
accelerating rev and loud idling were hymns of comfort, as Mom's Chevette had
sung similar tunes.
Memories
of sitting in the passenger's seat with Mom at the wheel are nostalgic with a
feeling of safety. In spite of her
stress, she typically appeared confident.
Not me. My kids were the best
behaved travelers. They knew any
distraction could easily frazzle me and send us all to the hospital instead of
Grandma's house. Today I gladly sit in
their passenger's seats but still create tension.
Mom
continues to laments the loss of her car.
"My Chevette was a good little car," she's incline to say when
the subject of autos comes up. I hope
history continues to repeat itself in her car's 1995 ghost.
Go granny, go granny, go granny go. It's the little old lady from Maple Shade.
ReplyDeleteGood luck, Super D
ReplyDeleteGood luck with the car. I remember in the movie "Oh, God You Devil" one of the characters asked God (George Burns) if praying would help him. "It wouldn't hurt," Burns replied. I think the same philosophy applies to motor vehicles.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kevin. I just got it inspected this morning. I held my breath, hoping it would pass. It did. Didn't even have to pray.
ReplyDelete