Cars--Not Just a Movie
My preschoolers love the movie, Cars. Most of my little boys, and quite a few of the girls, too, can name all of the movie characters. We see lots of cars, of many kinds, for Show and Tell. I'm always amazed at the little boys who can identify every Match Box car by make and model.
Victoria, at fifteen, has been studying hard so she can take her test to get her learner's permit. She's been noticing cars lately, too, wondering what kind of car she'll be driving someday.
I remember riding in several family cars, mostly Fords and Ramblers, when I was growing up. I was fascinated with my Grandpa Wegner's Chevy because he could magically remove the key from the ignition while he was driving. Station wagons were popular in the 1960's, especially with large families, because all of the extra passengers and pets could ride in the back. Seat belts and safe children's car seats didn't exist, so a station wagon could easily be filled with ten or twelve people. It was great fun to go someplace with another family when we could all ride together in the same car.
At fifteen, I first learned to drive a blue Ford station wagon. I remember weaving that enormous "boat" up and down the brick streets in Fairbury, with Mom in the passenger seat and my brother and sister in the backseat, making snide comments about my driving ability. After I finally got my driver's license on my sixteenth birthday, I often drove our station wagon to run errands. However, I especially liked to drive the catering truck.
It was a big, old mail van that my dad bought at a government auction. He had it repainted light yellow, with a broasted chicken decal on each side. Its official purpose was to haul tables, chairs, and food, including broasted chicken, to locations away from the hotel. Sometimes, Dad put an old double mattress in the back so we could use the van for camping on the weekends. It was usually available for me to drive in the summer and after school. I remember receiving lots of strange looks when I drove that van, because I looked like I was about twelve, and I certainly didn't appear to be able to manage such a cumbersome vehicle. When I wanted to go somewhere, I had to climb into the van through the passenger-side sliding door, and sit in the driver's seat, which was the only seat in the van. A passenger had to sit on a folding chair, which would often slide to the back of the van if I didn't turn corners carefully. Additional passengers could sit on the metal "benches" that formed the wheel wells above the back tires, but it was probably safest for my passengers to sprawl on the cold metal floor in the back of the van. There was plenty of room in the back for guitar cases, too, so my friends and I often took the van when we went to sing at the nursing homes. There were no seat belts, of course, and no windows except for the expansive front windshield and two small side windows in the front. I always warned passengers when to "hold on!" but I'm afraid that there wasn't really much for my siblings or friends to hold onto.
By the time I was seventeen, Dad bought an old, green Rambler for Mom and me to use as a school car. Mom was driving the fifty miles back and forth to Seward two or three days a week by then, to take college classes, so she drove the Rambler more than I did. I drove it to football and basketball games and church activities, and occasionally to school. The car's green paint was dull and weathered; it looked like it had been through a sand storm. After Mom and I attempted to wash and wax it, the circular wax marks remained forever, giving the car an interesting appearance. The Rambler was a push button car; I had to push a button to start it, and push other buttons to put the car in drive, or reverse, or park. However, it started only when it wanted to. My jumper cables became my new best friend.
Shortly before I started to college, Dad found a bright yellow Mustang convertible for Dan and me to share. Unfortunately, I didn't get to drive it much, because I couldn't have a car at college. When I came home on weekends, Dan usually had other plans for the Mustang, so I was stuck driving Dad's red El Camino, the one that always got stuck in second gear. Then, Bill and I started dating, and were soon engaged, so Dan claimed the Mustang as his alone.
But, Bill had a blue Camaro...
Victoria, at fifteen, has been studying hard so she can take her test to get her learner's permit. She's been noticing cars lately, too, wondering what kind of car she'll be driving someday.
I remember riding in several family cars, mostly Fords and Ramblers, when I was growing up. I was fascinated with my Grandpa Wegner's Chevy because he could magically remove the key from the ignition while he was driving. Station wagons were popular in the 1960's, especially with large families, because all of the extra passengers and pets could ride in the back. Seat belts and safe children's car seats didn't exist, so a station wagon could easily be filled with ten or twelve people. It was great fun to go someplace with another family when we could all ride together in the same car.
At fifteen, I first learned to drive a blue Ford station wagon. I remember weaving that enormous "boat" up and down the brick streets in Fairbury, with Mom in the passenger seat and my brother and sister in the backseat, making snide comments about my driving ability. After I finally got my driver's license on my sixteenth birthday, I often drove our station wagon to run errands. However, I especially liked to drive the catering truck.
It was a big, old mail van that my dad bought at a government auction. He had it repainted light yellow, with a broasted chicken decal on each side. Its official purpose was to haul tables, chairs, and food, including broasted chicken, to locations away from the hotel. Sometimes, Dad put an old double mattress in the back so we could use the van for camping on the weekends. It was usually available for me to drive in the summer and after school. I remember receiving lots of strange looks when I drove that van, because I looked like I was about twelve, and I certainly didn't appear to be able to manage such a cumbersome vehicle. When I wanted to go somewhere, I had to climb into the van through the passenger-side sliding door, and sit in the driver's seat, which was the only seat in the van. A passenger had to sit on a folding chair, which would often slide to the back of the van if I didn't turn corners carefully. Additional passengers could sit on the metal "benches" that formed the wheel wells above the back tires, but it was probably safest for my passengers to sprawl on the cold metal floor in the back of the van. There was plenty of room in the back for guitar cases, too, so my friends and I often took the van when we went to sing at the nursing homes. There were no seat belts, of course, and no windows except for the expansive front windshield and two small side windows in the front. I always warned passengers when to "hold on!" but I'm afraid that there wasn't really much for my siblings or friends to hold onto.
By the time I was seventeen, Dad bought an old, green Rambler for Mom and me to use as a school car. Mom was driving the fifty miles back and forth to Seward two or three days a week by then, to take college classes, so she drove the Rambler more than I did. I drove it to football and basketball games and church activities, and occasionally to school. The car's green paint was dull and weathered; it looked like it had been through a sand storm. After Mom and I attempted to wash and wax it, the circular wax marks remained forever, giving the car an interesting appearance. The Rambler was a push button car; I had to push a button to start it, and push other buttons to put the car in drive, or reverse, or park. However, it started only when it wanted to. My jumper cables became my new best friend.
Shortly before I started to college, Dad found a bright yellow Mustang convertible for Dan and me to share. Unfortunately, I didn't get to drive it much, because I couldn't have a car at college. When I came home on weekends, Dan usually had other plans for the Mustang, so I was stuck driving Dad's red El Camino, the one that always got stuck in second gear. Then, Bill and I started dating, and were soon engaged, so Dan claimed the Mustang as his alone.
But, Bill had a blue Camaro...
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