Category Archives: Crazy is as Crazie Does

Unsafe at Any Speed

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At lunch today my husband and I talked about our first cars. His was a 1948 Chevy.

Knowing that he is not all that mechanical, my first question was, “How did you keep it running?”

“It never broke down,” he said.

Now, that’s just not right.

Growing up, I don’t remember a single car we possessed that didn’t break down. My earliest memory is of sitting next to Dad as we careened down a steep hill, all the while he was frantically trying to re-attach the steering wheel to the column.

Dad owned clunkers where the engine literally dropped out on the road as we were driving or overheated at the slightest incline. (One time I watched Dad resolve the problem by pouring a can of cola into the radiator, but that’s another story.) We once spent an entire month camping in the mountains because the car broke down as we pulled in the campground and we had no transportation, or money, to drive down to get a new part.

I remember riding with my older sister in the first car Dad bought for her. We were sitting at a stoplight. People started pointing and shouting and it took us a while to realize the car was on fire. In our defense the car had the engine in the rear, so it wouldn’t have been immediately obvious to us.  I mean, we didn’t have the radio cranked all the way up and we weren’t fighting over the rearview mirror to check our hair and make-up, if that’s what you’re thinking.

So, my first car was a slightly burnt, hand-me-down from my sister (as were all my clothes by the way – I mean they were hand-me-downs, not burnt – that would be weird.)

One problem was the heater. Heat was conveyed to the interior of the car by a system of ducts connected to the cylinder head. I don’t know much about cars, but I do know I often arrived at school slightly dizzy from inhaling exhaust fumes.

There was also no Park. The display read “R-N-D-L”. No “P.” I’m sure that originally the manufacturer installed some sort of system whereby the car stayed where you parked it but by the time it reached me, that portion of the car was no longer working. My only option was to find a level place to park. In my first week of driving I often came out of school to discover the car had rolled across the parking lot, jumped the curb and sat sweetly in the grass.

On a morning drive to school my love/hate meter shot from one side to the other several times.

“I love this car,” I’d say if I was lucky enough to get it started and out the drive. My love continued unabated, until I hit a bump.

“I hate this stupid car,” I’d yell when the motor shut off. As the car rolled onward I screamed and cursed it, until I’d hit another bump, which caused the motor to engage and I’d make my panicked way to school with the needle on my love/hate meter jumping wildly.

My first car?  It was a Corvair. The car declared by Ralph Nader to be”Unsafe at Any Speed.”

I have to agree with Ralph.

Tramp Stamps and Wine Spritzers

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I might have mentioned it a time or two already, but my husband and I lend proof to the saying “Opposites Attract.”  One of the things people find confusing about us is that I’m a democrat and he’s a republican.  It’s not a huge difference except for the fact that he happens to be a Republican State Senator.

Which reminds me of another of my Foot In Mouth comments.  We were attending a republican fundraiser and once again I was nervous, so once again I chose to relax with a couple of vodka tonics. (I used to try to blame these awkward comments on the alcohol but I quit drinking and so far it hasn’t helped.)  We were standing in a crowd of people who were discussing how hard it is to find good people to run for office.

“I asked my neighbor if she’d run,” one woman said.  “But she told me she’d slept with too many men to be able to be elected.”

Laughter followed.

“Well,” I said.  “My husband will be the perfect candidate because I can assure you, he hasn’t slept with any men!”

Silence followed.

But I digress.  I was focusing on our differences.  My husband is very athletic – star of his hometown football team, award winning golfer, excellent tennis player.  The list goes on and on.  I, on the other hand, struggle to put one foot in front of the other.

As my dad said when I told him I was planning to take golf lessons, “Oh, honey, you know you’re not coordinated enough to play sports.”

In a recent discussion I discovered my husband and I both liked boating.  Great!  Waterskiing was the one sport I had managed to conquer.  Maybe, I thought, we found something we could do together.  

Unfortunately, boating to him, meant sailing.  I mean who wants all that wrestling with ropes and sails and balancing against the wind stuff, when you can sit leisurely behind the wheel of a motor boat, right?  We discussed it endlessly and finally decided to visit both marinas at the lake.

We started at the sailing club where the people were dressed in polo shirts and khaki shorts.  After their early morning sail, they came into the clubhouse for a salad and a wine spritzer.  Then we visited the ski club where beer bellies and bikinis abound.
The number of men with mullets were only slightly outnumbered by the women with tramp stamps.

Since I’m not willing to invest in a tattoo and my husband is not willing to invest in a boat, we’re still searching for our common thread.