Beetlemania

Remember your first driving lesson, then that horrid test and finally 'getting your first beloved car'? Well, I don't. I remember bits and pieces because I was so traumatized by the driving lessons. So let's start there!

Yes, I went to the 6 week course to become a magical sixteen-year old 'safe' driver. We know that lasts for a about a week before we get our first speeding ticket. I was in Richmond, which was full of deep and dark ditches at the time. My co-pilot was supportive and thank GOD HE HAD A WHEEL TOO... because the first lesson was in a blizzard. My luck. No lines, no sense of safety...just sliding and huge ditches on either side. I needed diapers, I was that tense.

But, I passed! Then it was onto the 'test'. The written part wasn't so bad. I didn't even cheat. I really knew my stuff after hours of letting my sister question me over and over. The actual test was like passing a kidney stone. My 'Test Teacher' was a tall man with a lot of attitude and a pipe. He asked me if I MINDED HIM SMOKING HIS PIPE DURING THE TEST. Really? REALLY? That's even permitted? I actually said, "YES, I DO MIND" , and after that I knew I would fail. He would surmise that I was a cocky, lippy teen.

I don't even remember the driven test. I was in shock. But, when we landed back at the school of young drivers, he tapped his filthy pipe out the window and told me I had scored 98%! Maybe being a honest was refreshing to THE INHALER. He added that I was the best parallel Parker he had seen in weeks. NOTE: DURING MY DRIVING LESSONS THAT WAS MY WORST SKILL. Life really is a roulette wheel on any given day!

Then, it was time to get my first car. I was so excited I almost broke out in shingles. Lucky for me it was just an anxious rash. My best friend (a drug dealer- but I didn't know), helped me go to various parking lots to check out the goods...meaning, very old cars. I knew I had to go 'very small' and actually wanted a MINI, but, at 6 foot 4 that was not a wise plan.

He, Rick the stoner, found me a good deal. It was a Volkswagen Beetle. Hmmm, a Beetle..they still make those? Well, it was orange too. I HATE ORANGE. Funny, those of us with NO MECHANICAL SKILLS focus on 'colour first'... but the price was in my 'dishwasher cheque range', so I bought it. Then, I went straight to a baby book for names. TRADITION: you have to name your first car. I called him, Adam. I picked that name because that's the name I wanted to be called at birth but obviously my parents didn't hear me.

So, Adam and I fell in love. I bought the polish, the little 'first aid kit for the car', the spare tire and the pine air freshener which is REALLY NOT MY THING. I know I should have bought the furry dice but I felt my car wasn't racy enough.

As our relationship blossomed and I was still dent free...I decided to drive down the California coast with my best friend (not Rick). He was Misha, a very disoriented boxer with tattoos and a pearl ear-ring. He was really dangerous looking. He was happy to join me with tents and a Coleman stove but said, "I'LL ONLY GO IF I'M DRIVING...YOU SUCK AT DRIVING!" I should have shown him my 98% test results..but, I wasn't prepared to lip off to a boxer. Also, a University room-mate said he had a prison record. He seemed nice!

So, off we went. I sang my heart out. He was not impressed but I had too. This was my first ROAD TRIP! The car barely fit our baggage as the hood is the trunk and the trunk is under the back seat. Who makes these cars?

Trouble hit when we were driving through the Redwood Forest. The hood , which I forgot to close properly, flew up and FLEW OFF! Yes, the entire hood ended up in the 4 foot fern forest and our clothing tumbled out on the highway for all to see. I laughed but the Boxer groaned and pumped his fist into an innocent tree. We had to use coat hangers to keep the hood on for the remainder of the trip. It worked! Adam was a trooper.

But, the whole 'battery under the back seat' was not such a good 'ideal' when making the Beetle. I was leaning down on the back seat to grab a flashlight and sparks flew. The springs had touched the positive to the negative and now , I was inhaling toxic fumes. I heard the Boxer using a lot of curse words but I was dizzy at the time. I coughed my way out of the car while Boxer Boy just slapped his dented forehead and yelled, WHAT NEXT?? Lucky for us we were near a public pool and the lifeguards came out with buckets of water to kill the beginning of a small backseat fire.

I was actually impressed that the damage was minimal. I just had to bend some springs and pull off melted goo. Then we bought a new battery and carried on! Bliss...I tell you ..ROAD TRIPS ARE THE EXPERIENCE THAT TURNS A BOY INTO A MAN!

When my orange Volkswagen finally died and mushrooms started to grow under my brakes, I had a pang of heartbreak. I had gone to Mexico three times in that Beetle. I had seen Disneyland, the Red Rock Canyon, Vegas, been down the Ventura Highway and only had 5 speeding tickets (3 of them were the Boxers). It was over. The car would become a crushed square of metal and I would move on to a Fiat, Datsun, Mazda, Toyota and Ford but, Adam would be my first love. I'm still not found of the colour orange and the BOXER became a University Professor...go figure!