|The Great Pumpkin. As he was . . .|
It started in college.
With Snoopy and The Great Pumpkin.
Maybe I should explain . . .
I love cars.
The older, the better, it's true.
But really, any cars.
When I went to college, my Dad put a down payment on a bright, new, orange beauty for me.
A Dodge Colt.
Any extra money I had was squandered on it.
Any extra time was spent under the expert tutelage of my older brother, traipsing through its inner workings.
We were inseparable, my car and me.
But it was my roommate at school who actually gave my beauty its name.
Debbie, said roommate, drove a little white Chevy.
What else could she call my car but, The Great Pumpkin.
Okay, here's where I admit that the name suited.
The car was orange.
And kind of . . . round.
Great Pumpkin, it became.
And a new tradition was begun.
After the Pumpkin, we drove such darlings as: The Frog. Ralphie. Bluee. WagonHo. WagonHo 2. Lady. The Beast.
And a little firefly named Zippy.
Something to note: We fit my Husby, myself, an eleven-year-old, two nine-year-olds, a seven-year-old, a five-year-old, a two-year-old and a baby in a carseat into that sturdy little firefly.
And made it, unscathed, to church.
Sometime, I'll explain the logistics of such a feat.
Another aside: Our second son, Erik, he of the six foot eight inch height, ended up driving little Zippy. Watching him unfold from that compact little car was a treat in itself.
Back to my story . . .
I don't know where these names came from.
Sometimes, they resulted from some little quirk in a vehicle.
Sometimes from the appearance.
But they caught on.
To the point where people who weren't even in our family knew the names of our cars.
And used them accordingly.
Our children, too picked up the habit.
Our one daughter's family, for example, have driven, successively: Phoebe, Elene, Persephone and Owlyet (the last one named by their daughter).
Presently, my Husby and I are driving two elderly pick-up trucks.
A 1994 Dodge Dakota with a skin condition, appropriately named Scabbers.
And a 2000 GMC Sonoma, with a bit of a balky nature, encouragingly and hopefully called Everready.