* You get a very special Lisa Life gift if you can guess, without googling, what song/album/band this refers to.
Growing up in Michigan and having a father who was heavily involved in the manufacturing and selling of General Motor vehicles, I became something of a gear head, without even trying.
My dad was a safety nut long before seat belts were in common use or it was a law. He made me learn to drive on a stick shift, indeed, a Chevy Shitbox (Chevette) that had been around the family for a long time and had a crappy cantankerous clutch.
He had some cars he was very proud of: A Buick Grand National, which I never thought was all that; he restored a 69 Camaro hardtop which was my first official car, although he made me drive a huge old whale of a Bonneville, some late 70s dinosaur, for several months until he was sure I wasn't going to kill myself. I was only allowed to drive the Camaro until ten p.m. and he checked it for dings and scratches.
I've had a lot of cars. Some 90 per cent have been GM just because I had that discount and got some screaming deals. Some were really ill-advised choices. Like that Cutlass Supreme Convertible I bought off the dealership floor while working there without even driving it in broad daylight. It was white and had blood red leather interior and it took me about a week before I realized it was one of the ugliest things I'd ever seen. I should have guessed when my mom told me it was certainly an interesting choice.
One of the sweetest things I ever drove was my Corvette. Never mind that I couldn't really transport my child in it and almost died in it, I loved Vettes and it was a great deal. I took over a lease for $299 a month and it was less than a year old. It was red, with T-tops and a six speed and it used to piss me off to no end when I would be pumping gas or at a light and some divorced-and- it-showed guy would be like, "Oh, got your daddy's/husband's/boyfriend's car?" My license plate, by the way, said RED SHOES. (Another musical reference, no prize for that one.)
When I met my last ex, he had no interest in cars other than in an appliance sort of way. They got him from point A to point B. He didn't know how to drive a manual transmission. The man was in his late 20s and couldn't drive a stick shift.
Yeah yeah yeah, I know, here's a quarter for a clue phone, Lisa.
Stick shifts and safety belts.
I can't drive a stick.
I didn't get a license until I was 45.
~ducking~
Posted by: vero | May 12, 2007 at 11:28 PM
song is by cake, and i am not sure what album, but the song is called stick shift and safety belts....
Posted by: nursenicole | May 13, 2007 at 02:12 PM
hey...your brother has a vette... well he has had several... the latest one is blue i think... he has it gassed up with some tank... mary is afraid to ride in it in case he pushes that button...
Posted by: sandi | May 14, 2007 at 07:33 AM