You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em

The other day a couple friends and I were talking about cars and if we named our cars. The consensus was that most people do not name their car. Which I thought was fascinating because I have named every car I ever had. Now, I could write a whole section in a book about the cars we had growing up and all the adventures we had.

 

Growing up our car always had a name and that name was always BETSY. I’m not sure why it was always Betsy. Maybe because it was easy to scream when it caught on fire and you had to dash out or Bets was a lovely nickname for when it was running good. Either way, all our cars were Betsy. So I made a vow (yes, I use that word in its serious sense) that I would not be naming MY car Betsy when I grew up. So now my cars name is Brit. I couldn’t quite get away from the B names.

 

Anyway, over the years we had a lot of Betsy’s. Mostly cars that my dad brought home (kinda like a lost pet) where he spent most of his time either working on Bets, cursing Bets, or figuring out how to trade it for a new Bets.

 

And over the years, they would start on fire at the grocery store and we would have to abandon ship. I don’t remember ever towing any of the Betsy’s home I learned very young that when a car started on fire you just grabbed anything you wanted out of it and started the walk home. If we ever asked where Bets went my dad would always reply “The Farm” which was pretty much his go to for lost things. I always imagined this incredible farm kinda like the land of lost toys where all of our stuff disappeared to, our old cars, our pets, socks, my Cheetos, relatives we didn’t see that much.

 

Most of the Bets were old cars but we did have a gold Toyota van once. I loved that van and would always want to sit in the way back. It was a 2 rower which was awesome and came in handy when my brother and I discovered hand to hand combat. From the outside the van was perfect, not a dent on her and shiny gold. However, as time went on we had to push start her to get her going. I remember in the winter in Colorado the neighborhood kids would all come over and help push her. Snow can be a bitch in these “situations”. Pinky always had a candy dish full of butterscotch and ribbon candies for payment.

 

BUT, there are certain ages when having a famous car has its advantages and then there are ages when having a famous car……is…what’s the word?…NOT COOL!!! For example, Junior High.

 

Setting the scene. It was a dark fall day and my brother and I were still at school (I know…it gets weirder) when my dad pulled up in front of the school to get us. Now, normally this wouldn’t be an issue because you see this school has a hill out front which is as pretty awesome as it gets when you have a car that needs to be pushed to start. So there we are out front and we see dad coming and haven’t got a worry in our heads because of that hill and it doesn’t matter to us that other kids are outside because we have that damn hill and that hill will be our saving grace. I think me and my brother even did a little “we got this” head nod to each other. Well my dad stops in front of us and takes his freakin foot off the clutch. Now imagine our faces here. But we remain calm, we are in junior high and we are experts at remaining calm in all situations at this point in our lives, we have been trained well.

 

So we get in the van with a few choice words to our dad and say ok, “Hill it, Pops”. Well here is the thing…..it won’t go…..no movement. It doesn’t have enough momentum to roll at a speed acceptable for popping the clutch. Sheer panic comes over both my brother and I and we must make a decision, abandon ship and my dad all together, wait it out until all the kids, the janitor and the neighbors go to sleep or push.

 

Before we can even decide, dad makes the decision for us by yelling “Get out and push and I will jump it”. Loud enough for the townspeople 2 towns over to hear. So my brother and I get out. I go to the back and start pushing and I realize that it is not moving, so I am yelling what the hell I can’t move it and I hear my dad laughing and laughing and I think he is laughing because I am a bad pusher so I get even more mad and start pushing with all my might..And all I hear is his booming laugh. Having enough I start walking toward his window to tell him to get out and push Betsy and that is when I see my brother in the front of the van. HE has been pushing from the front while I was pushing from the back……seriously, this is my life. Anyway, we finally got Bets rolling and we were off, not long after we got another Bets a gold (we like gold) Corsica with Zebra seat covers.

 

Anyway, the point of this is you gotta name your car.

 

 

 

Cheers,
Am xoxoxo