Flashback Friday: Old Blue

Growing up we had several cars that I would not have considered to be "well running vehicles". There was the white station wagon with the driver's side window that didn't roll down and a broken left turn signal-good luck making that turn; the green Datsun that honked all by itself when making a left turn unless a piece of paper was wedged in the steering wheel; the brown Corolla with the gas pedal that stuck; and my personal favorite: Old Blue.

Old Blue was a cut above the other vehicles we owned. It had enough seating for all us, who could resist that seat in the 'way back' that faced oncoming traffic. Can't imagine why I get car sick so easily, you'd think a childhood of not being able look out the front window of a vehicle would have made me immune to that. Ok, back to Old Blue. The thin lining that covered the padded ceiling was too much for seven kids to resist. We poked at it and practiced making letters with our fingernails until it finally began to come loose and eventually just hang down in various places.

The lovely interior was nothing compared to the engine. It blew up in the first week we owned the thing and dad replaced it with a used engine. Since it was a minimum forty mile round trip to get to town from our house and back, it didn't last long.

The five of us younger kids took roller skating lessons for several years. Every once in while we performed in competitions that took us from our "home" skating rink to another. This particular competition was in southeast San Diego, not exactly the best part of town, but we were just headed to the rink, no problem. The rink was pretty old and was built with two poles centered in each half of the rink (for support?), so we were encouraged to practice there before the competition.

My saint of a mother loaded us five kids up in Old Blue drove forever to get there, patiently watched us practice, loaded us back up in Old Blue and headed back home. Until Old Blue decided to die. Mom managed to pull into a gas station before all power was gone and went to call dad. We knew we were in a bad part of town, but didn't realize how bad until mom headed to the pay phone (a cell phone would have been really useful back then!). There was a car full of what I would now consider to be "thugs", who told mom she couldn't use that phone. There must have been a drug deal going down and evidently mom was getting in the way of it (I'm sure they're thankful for cell phones now too!). Since there happened to be two pay phones, mom sweetly asked for permission to use the other public pay phone to which they nodded yes. How generous.

After getting a hold of dad, who was very nonchalant about the whole thing, mom told us he would be coming to our rescue. Did I mention it was a very hot summer day? Yes, very hot, so our sweet mother got out of the car, again, passed the 'nice' young men still waiting on their important call, made it into the store and bought us all something to drink. She dolled out the goods when she came back and I firmly passed on the orange soda. See, I was a bit of a hypochondriac and was positive they poisoned the beverages inside the store. We're talking an aluminum can of carbonated soda, something we never had at home, but I was sure it had somehow been tampered with and would lead me to a slow, painful death. I had also insisted mom roll the windows up and lock the doors; a notion she flatly refused, based on the fact that we would suffocated in the heat. So they came down, an inch. Apparently that sort of death seemed more appealing to me and I was willing to take the chance.

The minutes ticked by for what seemed like an eternity. Mom kept insisting I stop saying we were all going to wind up on the five o'clock news as "drive by" victims (maybe those weren't the exact words, but you get the idea). Finally, dad showed up, or should I say, strolled up and managed to fix car enough to get us back up the hill. Never was I so happy to get a drink of water that I knew wasn't tainted with poison and not have keep a continual 360 degree view of my surroundings "just in case".

We did go back to the skating rink for the competition, but this time dad drove. Old Blue ran just fine for him though, something about Murphy's Law I suppose.

The moral of this flashback: When driving an unreliable car, be prepared to pray continually and keep a bottle of your own beverage availablein the vehicle-just in case.