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| 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.
Named Snoopy.
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, Owlyet (named by their daughter), Pepper, Valka and Wanda.
Whew!
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 rusting 2000 GMC Sonoma, with a bit of a balky nature, encouragingly and hopefully called Everready. (Or Scabbers, Jr.)
Oh, and a 2010 red Dodge Journey, unimaginatively called, Red.
Let’s drive!
Funny that my husband has never named his cars (oh, there was one exception but not sure I would ever tell that story on my public blog - just saying it was very 1970's) but I know so many people who do!
ReplyDeleteI love old cars too, I'll never forget my first, a Cutlass Supreme convertible my dad had waiting for me in the driveway the day I got my license. I used to name my cars too. Now I'm wondering why I stopped.
ReplyDeleteFunny! My car in college was a blue chevy called Ted. Once he had snow on his roof and resembled Ted Baxter from the Mary Tyler Moore show. Hence the name..
ReplyDeleteOur cars are nameless. Unless of course (which is possible) that himself has a private name for them...
ReplyDeleteWe name our cars, too.
ReplyDeleteOur current rides are a Ford Focus named GusGus die Fledermaus, and Sweetie's Lincoln Town Car called Lunceford the Land Yacht.
Sweetie barely fits in GusGus and watching him unfold out of it is funny, so i can imagine your son getting out of the Firefly.
Ha-ha we name our cars, too! I have a black Lexus called Erma and my hubby drives a 14 yr. old lexus named Sally.
ReplyDeleteYears ago, a friend had a little old lady car named Genevieve who somehow refused to even start if all passengers didn't have their seat belts on and would only manage to putter uphill if everyone leaned forward as if pushing her.
ReplyDelete