not a caddy girl

A friend called today and she was in a bind. She needed a car as hers was indisposed. Luckily when mom and dad went back to florida they left their brand new Caddy here in my driveway. It has (had as of this morning) a mere 100 miles on it. So I lent my friend friend my big 'ol truck and spent the day tooling around in a pimped out granny car. It made me feel self conscious. I'm not a Caddy girl.

The whole car owning/car as status symbol/cars can't bump into each other thing is always so weird to me because my family didn't actually own a car until I was about 12. I have no car sense. See, growing up in Manhattan a person doesn't hardly if ever even need a car. There are taxis and buses and subways and unless you have somewhere far away to be constantly driving to then a car is not necessary. You could live and die in NYC and never even learn to drive and still have an incredibly full and satisfying life. Then when I was about 10 my folks joined a country club in Westchester because they wanted to play golf. For a couple of years they borrowed grandma's classy/classic brown on the outside tan on the inside Mercedes Benz and then finally mom and dad got their own car. Check it out. 1977 Chevy Caprice Classic. You could lie down in the back seat and not bend your legs. It was huge. It was silver on the outside and soft red plushy something polyester on the inside-with vinyl piping. Piping would become a key component in future car selection for mom. (Hint of all things tacky to come)

This was the car I eventually learned to drive (and have parking lot accidents) in. Kind of. It was the car mom and dad let me drive once they were confident that the slimy lecherous guy (who wanted to take 17 year old me away to a fancy hotel for a weekend to "celebrate" getting my license) from the automobile club of america taught me enough of how to drive. But that kind of parental neglect and poor judgement is a story I'll save for my new-new-undead therapist.

Anyway....Once mom and dad became snow birds and started to go to Florida for the winters they decided that they needed another car and also they got a bit of the Keep Up With The Jones syndrome so their new cars had to be Lincolns at first and then they moved on to Caddies. And it always had to be the biggest ones too. Now, for those of you who have been spared the happening Senior scene down in South Florida, you'll have to take my word when I tell you that some thing happens to an old person that can make their taste in all things (except muzak) kind of ...uh....ghetto.

And the first place you can see this ghetto influence taking place is in the family car. Mom would call me every three years when they were getting ready to trade in the old car and get a new one (but not the Caprice because that baby was built to last!) and she'd bounce all of her color scheme idea off of me and I'd be speechless. In the beginning she could manage to straddle that line between old folks Caddy and Pimpmobile, but eventually she hoped right over into pimpville and showed up with the most outrageous car yet. It was metallic lavender with a fabric top. The top was a darker purple. And I am pretty sure there was some kind of piping (cream color maybe?) along the fabric top- because piping was what it was all about that year. But the insides of that car are what really took the cake, the insides were dark blood red leather with white piping. Goodness me, I get woozy just imagining riding around in it.

Way back then THE place to go for discount photo supplies in the city was on west 17th street in a more kind of industrial type of area. There was no parking down there because it was all loading docks and driveways. On one of my school breaks I wanted to load up on paper and film while I was home so dad drove me down. He waited outside with the caddy while I went in to purchase my stuff. When I came out and looked around for dad the first thing I saw was wide brimmed hat with a big feather in it (think - mid 1980's) and don't you know an actual pimp (at least he sure looked like one) and his 2 buddies were standing around chatting with with dear old dad admiring his car. I approached tentatively the pimp and friends said goodbye to dad and walked away. Dad turned to me and said "Nice fellows." We went home.

Next installment of South Florida Ghetto: How to decorate every room of your house with clear lucite and pastel colored formica furniture.

http://www.canadiandriver.com/articles/bv/77caprice.htm

Comments

[lilsis]

for the record it was a 78 chevy Caprice Classic - and I loved piling ALL my friends into it!!

[clickmom]

I know! You could comfortably sit 5 people across the back seat! (When no one was lying down flat I mean)

[Jennifer]

lol this was a good post. :) i wonder if my parents will ever get ghetto. for right now they have some good taste, but then again they are only in their mid fifties. :) maybe it takes a while longer.
:) hugs & have a great weekend.
jenn