Yesterday was warm, sunny, and beautiful. It was somewhere around 70 degrees out there. I had the pleasure of leaving work at noon and heading 40 minutes north of my office to have lunch with my dear friend. It was lovely as I cranked up the tunes and enjoyed a nice drive in the sunshine.
Today I drove home in heavy, wet snow coming down sideways and making travel very unhappy. It wasn’t lovely at all and there were no tunes that could make it better. Spring time in the Rockies!
But, here’s another little tidbit of Tamara Trivia ‘cause I know you have been waiting patiently for more. I really like to drive. I am not fond of traffic, but I love a good road trip. There is just something about the open road that draws me in.
My sister once told me I should be a truck driver or a race car driver. Couldn’t drive a big truck since they are so cumbersome, but now a racecar would be just about right for me. Not that I drive fast…well, there was that one time when I got a warning. Oh, and the time I got a not so wonderful ticket. Okay, I probably have some lead in my right foot. What’s a girl to do!?!
Honestly, my love affair with cars and the road started as a teenager. Daddy brought home that ugly brown thing and told me it was my new car.
Very seriously I said, “It’s ugly Daddy. I wanted a cute red car.”
“It’s a good car and it’s in my budget.” Dad responded and then without missing a beat, “If you would like something cute and red you can go shopping.”
Woohoo! A girl knows how to work her Daddy!
“Don’t forget to take your checkbook."
Hearing those words (and knowing the checkbook was full of checks, but the bank was bereft of money) I slowly turned and looked at the ugly brown thing. “You know, Daddy, he is kind of cute. I think I love him.”
Thus began my love affair with Harvey. We had three great years of adventures before his age began to show and all too soon it was over. There was nothing special about Harvey. He was your typical beater car that is perfect for a teenager just starting out. Still, he ignited a passion in me that burns to this day.
After Harvey became terminal and had to be put out to pasture there were a stream of cars that just didn’t measure up.
There was Grannyada that garnered much ribbing from my 20 something friends who couldn’t resist harassing me about the plastic on the back seats. It had been the family car and with four kids and a dog the plastic was an upholstery saver.
Charlie came next when my sister bought her first new car and I was given her old car. Charlie was a boat built in the 70s with a V6 engine. Charlie accompanied me on that 90 mph trip to Raton one summer.
The next two mediocre cars didn’t have names and failed to inspire me. Then there was a car to rank right up there with Harvey. Henry Honda drew me to him in 97 and reignited the passion in driving. He was sleek and handsome and caught many an eye as we darted around town.
Sadly his life was cut short one snowy November night in 2000 and my heart grieved for the loss. I thought it might have been the end of my love of the open road.
For months after that night I was unable to look in my rear view mirror for fear that the person behind me wouldn’t stop. Loud back fires caused me to jump. My joy just wasn’t there. In the weeks after the accident I purchased a good dependable family car. It fit the bill for getting me from point A to point B but never elevated my drive time to Henry or Harvey levels. I mourned for the loss of my love of driving.
Thankfully The Sheriff came into my life last year and renewed my driving spirit. The Sheriff is a far cry from either Harvey or Henry. The small size of Harvey and the sleek sportiness of Henry aren’t part of the package. Passion and joy in driving, though, are part of the package. Finally a vehicle that inspires me again; life is good.
So, now you know. I love my cars and I am not ashamed to admit it!