As I peruse this car selection of stories I had a chuckle. Seems like y’all got nice rides, I’m a little hesitant cause I read the two pieces describing what the car I drive says about me ... so I’m gonna break it down for y’all and you can give me some feedback because I may just be in the market for a new ride. Ready?
I have a unique style both in fashion and my home. I’m a single, redheaded, stiletto-wearing girl who loves to jam when I’m in the car. My favorite martini is Elderflower and I make a mean cocktail with lemon sorbet, chili chocolate shavings, topped with two huge strawberries and the piece de resistance ... drizzle about 2–3 ounces of Grand Marnier over all! Yummy! I love mellow jazz clubs and have a passion for salsa and dance music of all sorts. I’m into fine art, I write, I love to cook fabulous meals, adore great wine, interesting books. Fashion, music, cooking, wine, film, and shoes are my passion. My favorite cities are New York City, South Beach, Vegas. I love to drive ... FAST!
So with that bit of info ... what do you think I drive? Lexus, Caddy, some Euro-Fabulous ride?
Well ... my baby is a silver ’98 Honda Civic Hatchback with 131,000 miles on it. My driver’s seat is beginning to rip, my visor is broken (guess I checked my makeup one too many times!), the brake light goes on and off and drives me nuts! The car is so loud I can’t hear myself sing, which may be a good thing? My radio is tiny and came with a cassette player, no CD ... stop laughing! I can hear you! When I open the passenger door the hinge makes a creaking noise loud enough to call all emergency squads to the firehouse and I still haven’t sprayed some NW-40 on it to prevent waking my neighbors at the crack of dawn!
I’ve saved the best for last ... the exterior ...
I live in an area where everyone mostly drives jeeps and trucks. I swear to you, I don’t live on an army base. Anyway ... because they’re all big monsters, nobody ever sees little old me. The first time my bumper was fixed, it was my fault. Driving too fast as usual, hydroplaned, and went splat! I paid the $600 with my own money, drove home and three days later my roommate left for work and “didn’t” notice I was parked behind her TRUCK ... she left a perfect cookie cut out where her tow bar knob went into my fender! OOPSIE! She paid me the $600 and I promptly moved out! Drove down to New York and replaced it, also getting body work on the passenger side from an earlier accident. Drove back to the Cape all excited that my car looked shiny and new. Home two months, making a turn driving to work in the rain, this kid reeking of weed smacks right into me with his TRUCK! Then, the same week I catch a woman driving her JEEP away after she left a mark on the shiny new bumper! Just to make things even on all sides I get creamed by a woman driving this enormous SUV into the one good side that was left, but not to end there ... a town TRUCK backed up into my bumper and left it dangling in the wind! Well, that was it for me!
No more body work because no one sees me. Their vehicles are too big and these drivers don’t look down.
Duct tape is a beautiful thing. It’s kept my car intact for more than three years now. Every cop on the Island knows my car. I couldn’t commit a crime if my life depended on it. Can you say sore thumb? My son calls it a piece of poop, but that’s not the verbage he uses. He’s embarrassed to get into it. Oh, did I say I was single? Well it’s pretty funny when I meet a guy and I’m lookin’ all sexy in those stilettos, dressed fine and looking like money ... they walk me to my car and I watch their face, their body language.
You can tell a lot by peoples’ faces. It shocks them that I’m not drivin’ some Lexus or Escalade.
But ya know what, my little faithful hooptie gets me back and forth from Massachusetts to New York, never breaking down, never failing me. It’s my trusted duct taped buddy and I love my Civic. Actually I wish I lived in L.A. and X-hibit was still pimpin’ rides for MTV, I’d give him a call! I’m gonna drive my Honda until the end, duct taped and all. I don’t care who snickers or laughs! And I can hear all my cassettes from the eighties, betcha you can’t! So there!
I will gladly take suggestions for a new car. Of course it must be fast and furious, not a gas guzzler, and I need good storage space.
Don’t judge a book ... one would expect me to be steppin’ into a Lamborghini, yellow, of course, but for now I’m content to drive my dangling, mangled Honda ... and if any of you see X-hibit ... ask him to ... PIMP MY RIDE! PLEASE!