Mom Car

5 Comments

November 3, 2010

No one ever told my mom that when she had kids she was supposed to get a mom car.

This is weird, because she totally got the memo to wear pleated-front mom-jeans and she always used the time honored phrases, because I said so and if everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?

To which I answered, yes. Because if all my friends committed mass suicide I would be plagued with the deepest depression and would have no choice but to join them.

That response just pissed my mom off, which was (and still is) one of my favorite things to do…

Anyways–

All through my childhood my mom drove tiny, fast cars.

I’m pretty sure her and my dad took me home from the hospital on the back of one of these bad boys:

I think it helped communicate to the world, Hey, I’m here! I’m kind of a bad ass, and you can take your five-point harness and shove it.

As a baby, my mom carted my brother and me around in a Toyota Celica.

Did she ever complain after countless trips to the grocery store or hoisting us in and out to our respective daycare centers? Nooo, because she looked hot. And looking hot is paramount. And it is what also led her to her next car purchase, a Nissan 3000ZX:

As a 4 year-old, I can assure you that this was the coolest car ever. While my friends’ moms drove station wagons and mini-vans, my mom drove a talking car that also had it’s very own Matchbox.

Yes, I said talking car. My mom’s car would go all Nightrider on your ass, saying things like:

Your door is ajar

Your key is in the ignition

You won’t go far driving with the parking brake on, Cyndi.

A few years after that my mom decided to get a new car, my brother and I were about 9 and 10, and she was driving us to soccer practice and dance class. Maybe just maybe she’d get a Volvo or something equally sensible?

Nah, she got a Chevy Camero instead:

The car was completly impractical.

It made me barfy.

It was a bitch to get in and out of.

It crunched over steep driveways and bottomed out at every dip in the road.

And my mom loved it.

She’d take the T-tops off and drive fast while the wind whipped through her perm, I however, would be in the back contemplating a juicy vomit on the upholstery.

My mom had that car for about 6 years, and then gave it to my brother.

Yay.

He never did get that throw-uppy smell out of the seats.

Now I was about 16 and my mom didn’t have to drive us anywhere anymore. She was done with carpools and dropping us off at our friend’s houses or the mall.

She could finally get a car totally for herself.

So what does she get?

A Lexus 4-door sedan.

She finally got herself a mom car.

Way to go, Mom.

5 Comments:

Haha! I totally remember when your mom gave the blue camero with the t-tops to Jason. Your brother would drive to waterpolo practice with the wind blowing his curly locks, and a shit-eating grin on his face from ear to ear! 🙂 Good times.

by Heather Gapik on November 3, 2010

My Mom was one of the first on the block to get a minivan. Oh, how I hated that thing. I think she got it purposely so we wouldn’t want to borrow it in high school.

by Libby on November 3, 2010

I love it when my car talks to me. – “Your door is ajar.” “Your dipstick is long.”

by Mike Krause on November 3, 2010

We had a Honda Prelude. So cool. And our door was a jar too.
sometimes we banged it with a knife when it was hard to open.

a jar.

never mind.

by Lora on November 4, 2010

[…] practice and piano lessons? For all of my adolescence my mom drove my brother and me around in zippy two-door cars, and aside from my 16 year bout of car sickness, I turned out just fine. So I’m very adamant […]

by Car Show | Hippo Brigade on September 24, 2011

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