odd traditions

   Along with my family’s other strange and pointless traditions, there is one that is my personal favorite.

   I have to admit that one of the aspects about buying my first car that I was most excited about was that I got to pick out a name. Yes, for my car. In my lifetime, my family has had eight vehicles that I specifically remember. Each car or truck was given a very unique and thoughtful name when adopted into our family.

   First, there was Lucky. I was too young to ponder why Lucky was named, but probably because my parents got a good deal. Lucky was a maroon-ish Toyota 4Runner that toted us everywhere as kids. I distinctly remember the fabric on the seats and the little fluffy seatbelt covers my sister and I had in order to keep the belt from rubbing our necks raw. But one fateful day, “Lucky wasn’t so lucky anymore”. We were at a family friend’s pool party in SLC and some kid rammed into poor Lucky while she was innocently parked by the sidewalk because he was changing his radio station or whatever. THANKS A LOT! That was a mess. I just remember being so upset because “Lucky had died” and also my old fashioned glass Coca Cola bottle had broken during the crash. Jerk.

   After Lucky came Gracie, a dark green Orvis Edition of the Jeep Grand Cherokee. Leather seats, sunroof, issues… Gracie came with us all the way up to Montana. I remember cresting Lost Horse Pass in the middle of the night in November of 2001 as our family caravanned our way across the snowy states. My sister and I were mesmerized by the firework effect the snowflakes had from Gracie’s headlights as we drove through the night. Finally, after at least 4 years of a two hour commute for work, my dad just couldn’t fathom spending any more money to fix Gracie. We presumed she was on her last leg and had to sell her. Low and behold, the buyer happened to be a mechanic and fixed her right up! Now she’s still driving around town, probably with 200,000+ miles on her, and saying “that’s right! And you gave up on me!” whenever we pass each other on the road. Sorry Gracie…you had a lot of baggage.

   After Gracie there was Bubbles, aptly named because her color was called champagne. Another Toyota 4Runner but fairly new. We got Bubbles around about the same time I started driving so, unlike my sister, Bubbles wasn’t a big part of my life. I remember that car had a hard time making it down our washboard-y dirt roads without scooting around like a Mexican Jumping Bean. Those handles by the windows certainly came in handy. Bubbles was around for a few years until one unfortunate, icy day when my sister and mom slid off of a hill and poor Bubbles was totaled. Luckily, no one was hurt! Well, except for Bubbles…now she’s a giant smooshed block.

   Now my mom drives Rhonda the Bird-Eating Honda. A giant Honda Avalanche that doubles as her work vehicle. Yes, Rhonda eats birds. We can’t figure out why, either. She must be really stealthy because birds don’t know what’s coming until Rhonda’s directly overhead.

   When we had Lucky, my dad drove Blackie – an old black Toyota Tacoma with an extended cab. Needless to say, my sister and I quickly outgrew the backseat of Blackie due to our abnormally long limbs so we didn’t spend much time in that truck. We did take him camping a lot and the dogs would ride along once in a while, but my memories of Blackie are few and far between.

   After Blackie came Thunder for my dad. Another Toyota! How strange. This one was “Thunder Grey” and had suicide doors so my sibling and I were actually able to ride along. My dad still drives Thunder today because, unlike my mom, he seems to be slightly more fortunate in the accident section.

   When we moved to Montana, my parents only had Gracie. That became an issue because my sister and I had to ride the bus to school but the closest bus stop was about a mile away. To solve the problem, we bought Monte – a very old, wood-paneled Jeep Wagoneer. Monte was a beast. He could make it up any snowy hill and delivery us safely to our destination. He wasn’t very reliable outside of our neighborhood, though, so we rarely took him to town. His ceiling was drooping to the point that it grazed my dad’s head, his seats were fraying, families of mice often made brief homes in his undercarriage, he had a hard time playing the radio, and one of the doors didn’t always shut. But! He took us to the bus stop and that’s all that mattered. I learned to drive in Monte, cruising around our seven acres on a path my dad had created. After my sister and I both earned our licenses, Monte was banished to the edge of the property by the burn barrels and slash piles. One day we had him towed away and I’m fairly certain a piece of my heart died.

   I can’t forget Shooter! Shooter was a bonus car for my mom to drive for only a short length of time when she stopped commuting. She was a purple Mitsubishi Expo with three rows of seats and one of those seatbelt things that slides away when you open the door. It was such a fun car! I inherited it as my first vehicle and could tote my friends everywhere. I actually volunteered her for the Homecoming Week class pile-in and we fit 27 juniors! Which later I found out wasn’t the brightest idea because numerous things were broken in the process, but you live and you learn right? I had my first kiss in that car, got my first ticket in that car, broke curfew numerous times in that car, hit my first mailbox in that car…etc. I was beyond heartbroken the day her check engine light came on after school and she started spewing yellow liquids out of the hood. Shooter was a goner.

   Then I made my first grown-up financial decision and took out a loan for a 2001 black Hyundai Santa Fe my junior year of high school. I was a whole other level of excited. After five years of payments, the giddiness has worn off a stitch but I still love my Black Pearl; Pearl for short. She’s been with me every year that I have to make the horrific drive back and forth from college to home, always getting me there in one piece. I have a weird tradition of patting the dashboard and saying “thanks, Pearl!” whenever I get to my destination when the driving conditions were deathly. These days Pearl’s looking a little worse for wear unfortunately. Both of her visors are broken, the windshield is a disaster, she smells funny, she’s dirty, she’s dented, she’s scratched – she’s in desperate need of some TLC. But I’m a poor college student whose last priority is getting a carwash and a new windshield, so sue me! Hopefully she’ll keep trucking along and someday soon I’ll be able to buy her something nice. Stay with me, Pearl, stay with me!

   And now a new member has been inducted into the family – a blue Hyundai Tucson for the sister. She made her first grown-up financial decision and is now the proud payer-of-payments for the new rig. No name has surfaced for this youngin’ yet…any suggestions?