I lost a dear family member last night, at least she was like a member of the family. She was like a friend, a dear friend, to me. I remember her smile, at least it looked like a smile. And to be honest, I don't know if it was a "she". I mean, I dunno what a "she" would have-- it didn't have an Adam's apple then again it did not have breasts and I seen others like "her" and they had more curves. Then again, a four door sedan would count as a "she" would it?
But that's who Bluey was, a midnight blue 1997 Toyota Corolla. I was actually thinking of calling it "Adam Corolla" but that would be kinda corny wouldn't it? Plus, it did not make any sarcastic remarks like Adam Corolla does but I could swear that I had a 1977 Plymouth Volare that was on the snarky side! Bluey was her own person...okay... if she was a person. And before you think I am completely nuts, that's because the most of you that know me can actually TESTIFY that I am nuts anyway, I actually named most of my cars. My first car, a 1975 Plymouth Fury, was called "The Great Pumpkin" because it was dark orange and it was friggin huge. Then I later had "Ol' Yeller" who was a 1979 Chevy Chevette, it was known as "pissy" both because it was bright yellow. Since it was a Chevy Chevette and it WAS yellow, it had another name...LEMON. Then again I had my first ...eh... y'know...I also had my first dump by a girlfriend later on with that car. That's when I had my 1979 Camaro... I drive slow as a slug I admit (that's because I DRIVE THE FRIGGIN SPEED LIMIT) but it was a cool looking car and it was a great touring car -- the highway mileage was actually good even though there is one "actual" highway in Long Island that you can do actual "highway mileage" on! I called my Camaro several names, "The Chick Magnet" (even though I did not get a girlfriend with that car), and "Betsy". I left my Camaro back with my Long Island roots to go to grad school in Buffalo. I was carless in Buffalo until I got my first "real" job-- enter Mrs. Goldberg. Mrs. Goldberg was a 1987 Ford Tempo, who kinda reminded me of an old Jewish woman; she complained now and then, but she had a warm heart and was very reliable (minus the brisket). I had a few cars after that. When I moved to North Carolina, I had a few cars but I was barren of a car with personality but enter Mrs. Goldfarb. Mrs. Goldfarb was a 1991 Ford Tempo which meant it was Mrs. Goldberg's cousin and it had that nice friendly disposition for a Goyim driver like me. After a couple of years with Mrs. Goldfarb, I had a Buick... a 1998 Century to be exact. The Buick was a sequel to my Camaro like Mrs. Goldfarb (which I later sold for $50 to a demolition derby driver) was a sequel to Mrs. Goldberg. My Buick, whom I dubbed "The White Knight" was like a chick magnet and had all the bells and whistles. I had "The White Knight" for a couple of years, then the gas prices went up, and so did the miles-- about 230,000 to be exact. The "White Knight" had fallen deathly ill, blown head gasket. I did my goodbyes. And then came Bluey.
Bluey's story is different from the others. The fate on how I had Bluey was different. I had a weekend job in which I took care of a severly disabled boy. My Buick died when I was driving back from the boy's family. The grandfather seen my fate and had a car that his father owned. The father got sick and eventually gave it to my client's grandfather. There was attachment with my client's grandfather but knew I would take care of her. She was a big dividend in the era of high gas prices, around 30 to the gallon. Bluey was special, the situation was special, it was like a blessing from a loving family. Fate also twisted it's way in our relationship as it began. It began with the death of my Buick and later my client's great grandfather--the original owner of Bluey died. And later, my client died several months later during my shift. Bluey was about as fateful as he was faithful. She always started, never stalled. Aside for a flat tire, I was never stranded, even though I was only "stranded" for a half an hour, until the tow truck operator changed my tire. Bluey was the perfect car for me...she became the best car I had ever owned!
Fate sometimes comes back to visit, but we know that fate can be a vengeful beast! Last night, on Ash Wednesday, I was running an errand. Other than an impending storm in the background, it was an average night. I slowly came to a stop with a pickup truck ahead of me, plenty of room to stop for me. Then I heard a deathly howl from the Hell Hound itself ... okay, it was a loud screech from a Ford coming from behind me. Then came the "and then...BANG!" part of the story and the "my whole life became a flash before my eyes" part quickly followed in a millisecond, which was about the time I blacked out. The deploying airbags awoke me from my half second slumber. And then the Ford pushed me into the back of the pickup that was ahead of me. The impact was so great that when I with the pickup truck's back gate dropped and crushed Bluey's hood. Like a bad Oliver Stone movie, the silence fell and there was wisps of smoke dancing around the scene. I was a little bruised here and there, and I had an inkling that I will have that "You'll feel THAT in the morning!" experience (and BOYYYY that's true!). However, I was more concerned about the fate of Bluey which I know wasn't good from the impacts I felt! I examined the carnage-- Bluey's headlights were hanging down like a loved one's eyes closing for the last time. My car was totalled-- my life was gone-- I drive 75 miles a day working with disabled clients, and I cherish those 75 miles. I remember driving those miles with Bluey like it was holding hands with a girlfriend in a committed relationship, but I actually did not do anything (this time), but instead of a douchebag she had a crush on or a secret lesbian lover (and both ACTUALLY happened to me!) she left me for Fate. I'm sure she had time to say "I love you" before she had gone... at least she started when I pulled her off the road even though the whole rear end dragged with the trunk up ten feet in the air. But I heard the last hum of Bluey as she was pulled onto the tow truck. As the tow truck driver said my car was pretty much totalled, the asshat who drove the Ford was given a breathilyzer test, he wasn't drunk but he had a suspended license. Luckily, the asshat had insurance on the car even though it wasn't his car. So as I was leaving, the North Carolina State Trooper was apologizing for my loss, and then added with his cool Southern twang "Dang, he got you good! I wish I could I arrest him but I can't!" So at least, I was not at fault, which I was always paranoid of-- but paranoia is a pall bearer in this funeral. As I stepped into the hearse, okay tow truck, I took my beloved to her final resting place... a body shop in the Foothills of North Carolina. Bluey's time came and gone in this ball of fate. Even though she was about 15 years old and was pushing 200,000 miles, she left us too early.
I called my Mom the next morning and she said something that made sense, this could be a blessing in disguise. I might have a better car, perhaps a pickup truck, since it has a bigger crumple zone. The insurance company rep said that I should have a claim within the next 24 hours...possibly a rental car might be involved. So I still remain hopeful for now. But whatever happens, fate can be a good thing. Maybe I'll get a nice chunk of change and find another 90's era Toyota Corolla and for some reason I want a white one and call it "whitey" or maybe "Albino Jones". Maybe my memories of Bluey ran deep or just maybe Toyota makes damn good cars. Now I know this sounds like a Springsteen song (maybe I'll write my blog about GIRLS next time!), but this car was special like a girl or even like "Born To Run". There are parts in life in which the little things become central. Bluey became central for a little thing in my life. Other cars (and maybe even women) will appear in my life, and the wheels of life will spin again. Bluey was just a car, and a car will be replaced often (and I hope very soon in my situation). I'm sure there are other blue Toyotas, and other cars in the world. Bluey is now in the great big parking lot in the sky with Mrs. Goldberg and the others. Who knows what would happen next? Another Bluey might appear in the horizon! Anything could happen anytime. If I did not go out on that errand last night, Bluey would still be here-- but what would happen next; something good or something bad? We willl never know the answers or why Bluey left the highways of life, but fate has a way... We all hear that line that every cloud has a silver lining-- it's true; and the reason why there is a silver lining is because it's chrome plated!
But that's who Bluey was, a midnight blue 1997 Toyota Corolla. I was actually thinking of calling it "Adam Corolla" but that would be kinda corny wouldn't it? Plus, it did not make any sarcastic remarks like Adam Corolla does but I could swear that I had a 1977 Plymouth Volare that was on the snarky side! Bluey was her own person...okay... if she was a person. And before you think I am completely nuts, that's because the most of you that know me can actually TESTIFY that I am nuts anyway, I actually named most of my cars. My first car, a 1975 Plymouth Fury, was called "The Great Pumpkin" because it was dark orange and it was friggin huge. Then I later had "Ol' Yeller" who was a 1979 Chevy Chevette, it was known as "pissy" both because it was bright yellow. Since it was a Chevy Chevette and it WAS yellow, it had another name...LEMON. Then again I had my first ...eh... y'know...I also had my first dump by a girlfriend later on with that car. That's when I had my 1979 Camaro... I drive slow as a slug I admit (that's because I DRIVE THE FRIGGIN SPEED LIMIT) but it was a cool looking car and it was a great touring car -- the highway mileage was actually good even though there is one "actual" highway in Long Island that you can do actual "highway mileage" on! I called my Camaro several names, "The Chick Magnet" (even though I did not get a girlfriend with that car), and "Betsy". I left my Camaro back with my Long Island roots to go to grad school in Buffalo. I was carless in Buffalo until I got my first "real" job-- enter Mrs. Goldberg. Mrs. Goldberg was a 1987 Ford Tempo, who kinda reminded me of an old Jewish woman; she complained now and then, but she had a warm heart and was very reliable (minus the brisket). I had a few cars after that. When I moved to North Carolina, I had a few cars but I was barren of a car with personality but enter Mrs. Goldfarb. Mrs. Goldfarb was a 1991 Ford Tempo which meant it was Mrs. Goldberg's cousin and it had that nice friendly disposition for a Goyim driver like me. After a couple of years with Mrs. Goldfarb, I had a Buick... a 1998 Century to be exact. The Buick was a sequel to my Camaro like Mrs. Goldfarb (which I later sold for $50 to a demolition derby driver) was a sequel to Mrs. Goldberg. My Buick, whom I dubbed "The White Knight" was like a chick magnet and had all the bells and whistles. I had "The White Knight" for a couple of years, then the gas prices went up, and so did the miles-- about 230,000 to be exact. The "White Knight" had fallen deathly ill, blown head gasket. I did my goodbyes. And then came Bluey.
Bluey's story is different from the others. The fate on how I had Bluey was different. I had a weekend job in which I took care of a severly disabled boy. My Buick died when I was driving back from the boy's family. The grandfather seen my fate and had a car that his father owned. The father got sick and eventually gave it to my client's grandfather. There was attachment with my client's grandfather but knew I would take care of her. She was a big dividend in the era of high gas prices, around 30 to the gallon. Bluey was special, the situation was special, it was like a blessing from a loving family. Fate also twisted it's way in our relationship as it began. It began with the death of my Buick and later my client's great grandfather--the original owner of Bluey died. And later, my client died several months later during my shift. Bluey was about as fateful as he was faithful. She always started, never stalled. Aside for a flat tire, I was never stranded, even though I was only "stranded" for a half an hour, until the tow truck operator changed my tire. Bluey was the perfect car for me...she became the best car I had ever owned!
Fate sometimes comes back to visit, but we know that fate can be a vengeful beast! Last night, on Ash Wednesday, I was running an errand. Other than an impending storm in the background, it was an average night. I slowly came to a stop with a pickup truck ahead of me, plenty of room to stop for me. Then I heard a deathly howl from the Hell Hound itself ... okay, it was a loud screech from a Ford coming from behind me. Then came the "and then...BANG!" part of the story and the "my whole life became a flash before my eyes" part quickly followed in a millisecond, which was about the time I blacked out. The deploying airbags awoke me from my half second slumber. And then the Ford pushed me into the back of the pickup that was ahead of me. The impact was so great that when I with the pickup truck's back gate dropped and crushed Bluey's hood. Like a bad Oliver Stone movie, the silence fell and there was wisps of smoke dancing around the scene. I was a little bruised here and there, and I had an inkling that I will have that "You'll feel THAT in the morning!" experience (and BOYYYY that's true!). However, I was more concerned about the fate of Bluey which I know wasn't good from the impacts I felt! I examined the carnage-- Bluey's headlights were hanging down like a loved one's eyes closing for the last time. My car was totalled-- my life was gone-- I drive 75 miles a day working with disabled clients, and I cherish those 75 miles. I remember driving those miles with Bluey like it was holding hands with a girlfriend in a committed relationship, but I actually did not do anything (this time), but instead of a douchebag she had a crush on or a secret lesbian lover (and both ACTUALLY happened to me!) she left me for Fate. I'm sure she had time to say "I love you" before she had gone... at least she started when I pulled her off the road even though the whole rear end dragged with the trunk up ten feet in the air. But I heard the last hum of Bluey as she was pulled onto the tow truck. As the tow truck driver said my car was pretty much totalled, the asshat who drove the Ford was given a breathilyzer test, he wasn't drunk but he had a suspended license. Luckily, the asshat had insurance on the car even though it wasn't his car. So as I was leaving, the North Carolina State Trooper was apologizing for my loss, and then added with his cool Southern twang "Dang, he got you good! I wish I could I arrest him but I can't!" So at least, I was not at fault, which I was always paranoid of-- but paranoia is a pall bearer in this funeral. As I stepped into the hearse, okay tow truck, I took my beloved to her final resting place... a body shop in the Foothills of North Carolina. Bluey's time came and gone in this ball of fate. Even though she was about 15 years old and was pushing 200,000 miles, she left us too early.
I called my Mom the next morning and she said something that made sense, this could be a blessing in disguise. I might have a better car, perhaps a pickup truck, since it has a bigger crumple zone. The insurance company rep said that I should have a claim within the next 24 hours...possibly a rental car might be involved. So I still remain hopeful for now. But whatever happens, fate can be a good thing. Maybe I'll get a nice chunk of change and find another 90's era Toyota Corolla and for some reason I want a white one and call it "whitey" or maybe "Albino Jones". Maybe my memories of Bluey ran deep or just maybe Toyota makes damn good cars. Now I know this sounds like a Springsteen song (maybe I'll write my blog about GIRLS next time!), but this car was special like a girl or even like "Born To Run". There are parts in life in which the little things become central. Bluey became central for a little thing in my life. Other cars (and maybe even women) will appear in my life, and the wheels of life will spin again. Bluey was just a car, and a car will be replaced often (and I hope very soon in my situation). I'm sure there are other blue Toyotas, and other cars in the world. Bluey is now in the great big parking lot in the sky with Mrs. Goldberg and the others. Who knows what would happen next? Another Bluey might appear in the horizon! Anything could happen anytime. If I did not go out on that errand last night, Bluey would still be here-- but what would happen next; something good or something bad? We willl never know the answers or why Bluey left the highways of life, but fate has a way... We all hear that line that every cloud has a silver lining-- it's true; and the reason why there is a silver lining is because it's chrome plated!
here here for bluey may she be in the parking lot in the sky with some of my past cars i know how you feel that happend in a simular situation with my olds delta 88 but i was broadsided on the passenger side rear and spun into a ditch and died on me bluey in with my big bertha she was like a brut in a way and a rase car other time buton that note i now have sweetie a 96 chevy that i dubbed a country girl with an attitude and the dauhter of big bertha i have her going on 5 years now and not much in the way of maintance now i'm going to remince on some of my cars that came went talk to you later
ReplyDeleteWell,maybe there will be a "Country Girl" in my future whether she's a girl or a car! Either way, something positive always comes out of something negative! Thanx for the reply!
ReplyDelete