Drive My Cars
To drive in California is, as Didion once so perfectly put it, a “secular communion.” The intricate relationships between the key, the turnover of the ignition, left and right blinkers, lane merging, accelerating, and seat belt buckling (and unbuckling) all make up the cacophony of what it means to drive (or ride) in a car. I think it is impossible to properly navigate California without seizing some sort of relationship with cars, driving, and certain roads for that matter.
I decided in the pursuit of making something for something bigger (an outline) to take stock of these automobile related tokens of my past. Some exist clearer in my mind than others.
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Cars:
My Mother’s Station Wagon; white, tan leather interior. Hatchback with the reverse facing seats. “It fits me perfectly” my Mother says whenever the station wagon gets summoned by a preceding memory or catching a glimpse of a car that looked like her’s. My memories of this car were either in the seat behind the driver’s seat shouting “Blitzkrieg Bop” or “Our House” because for some reason they were always on the radio right before my Mother dropped me off at school (tardy).
Suburban 1 (?); I think my Father drove the suburban during these years (the white station wagon years), although for some reason I find this so hard to remember other than the fact that I knew I got driven around this car, mostly on weekends. If it was summertime Nick and I sat in the trunk on top of beach chairs, umbrellas and coolers. Unbuckled and impatient.
The Gray Sedan; with fuzzy white seat covers and a car phone (Nick and I would play spies). This car seemed to always be in the garage.
The other Gray Sedan; with gray leather interior. Stephanie drove when she got her license. I barely remember getting rid of it, but the ceiling lining started falling down and the windows could never stay up and the speakers would randomly blare the music really loud.
Suburban 2; white, gray leather interior, three rows. This car was actually a Yukon XL and lasted long enough for the sixteen year old version of me to learn to drive it (understanding why my Mother hated to drive this car). This car did all the chauffeuring to La Jolla surf day trips or up to Palo Alto or Berkley. Nick drove this car when he was in college.
Papa’s Two Door Red Mercedes; black leather interior, hardtop convertible. My Dad drove this for a little while. Sometimes he would let me sit on his lap and steer. I loved the size of the steering wheel. This car never went that fast.
Navy Blue Station Wagon; with the tan leather interior that came with Satellite Radio and a wooden steering wheel. My Mother would take me to water polo practice while the Elvis station broadcasted, “live from Graceland.” The first day of my senior year of high school I drove it and clipped a pole with the bumper at a gas station. I called my Dad. He was at work, my Mother was out of town. He told me, “That is what bumpers are for.” Some years later Alex totaled it on the five by the Citadel Outlets (I think–it was one of those he hit his brakes in time, but the people behind him did not, thus pushing him into the people in front of him. He was driving to play a show and he still did. In the spirit of legend let’s say he somehow made it to the venue early because of the fender bender).
Yellow Sedan; tan leather interior. My Dad mostly drove this car that used to be Machi and Papa’s. I remember preferring to drive this to get coffee in high school because I like the steering wheel and the diesel rumble and the family dog looked great in the passenger seat. My Dad was driving to work one morning and an old lady ran a red light and smashed into the front.
White Suv; black faux leather interior that my Mother aptly started calling the ‘mallow–short for marshmallow an ode to the Stay Puft Marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, she loves this movie. This was the first car ‘we’ had with bluetooth music connection. When I first got my license I did not like driving this car because of how responsive it is. Now it is ‘my car.’ It gets great gas mileage and has seat warmers. The volume knob does not work so I have to turn up or down the volume via a button on the steering wheel. I have driven it up to San Francisco three times, driven it to and from Los Angeles an absurd amount of times. I love to drive it across the Golden Gate Bridge and wind through the Marin Headlands with the sunroof open. It takes me places.
Other Notable Cars:
Stephanie’s Black Sedan; with tan faux leather interior. The first car I accidentally drove over 80 miles per hour in, going down hill on the 73.
The Duchess; butter yellow, diesel, tan interior. Breaks down alot. Is the perfect rumble to drive. Still feels like Alex’s car regardless of the daily driver iteration. Has a horse show on the grill.
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It is fun to think of time encapsulated in tangible things that really are just ephemeral. I have been starting to think about how one writes about life (my own) in California and writing about these quintessential/stereotypical/overdone items is a vehicle for that (sorry pun intended). Cars and California make sense for starters.
