Recently in July a day was dedicated as National Collector Car Appreciation Day. This day is commemorated each year on the second Friday in July. Summertime is filled with many car shows where people like me proudly display their classic cars, so I am happy there is a day that recognizes the vital role automotive restoration and collection plays in American society. This blog post tells the story of my classic car, called LY, and how she (yes… I name my cars and in this case assigned a gender…) came to be mine. This little yellow car is like a ray of sunshine that helped turn around a very dark time.
In this same book, “Scatter Seeds of Kindness,” there is a previous poem/prose called Dreams, where I talk about a dream I had years ago. It was so real that some would describe it as a visitation. In this dream my dad, who had already passed away, and I were driving around on a beautiful hilly countryside. We were in a yellow two-seater convertible and our hair was blowing around and we were having the best day together. So, it was interesting when a few years later my mom ended up buying a yellow convertible, just like the one in my dream. My dad had been long passed at this point, and my mom was remarried to my stepdad, so my dad did not have any influence over that decision, at least not consciously. Was this dream a bit of foreshadowing or a glance into the future? It must have all been just coincidental, as I had never told my mom about the dream. It was the early 2000s when my mom started to get the itch for a convertible. My sister and I were not on board with the idea and here’s why: a few years earlier my stepdad had purchased a boat. I was thrilled as I love the hot weather and being out on a lake. There is nothing better in the summer! The plan was to take it out to the lake most weekends, but that did not pan out because we had the rainiest summer that year. We took it out a few times, and then the novelty wore off as each week we’d eagerly await the weekend weather forecast, and then our hopes would fall as once again it was predicted to be cool and rainy. The following summer, my boyfriend and I each bought the hundredth anniversary edition Harley- Davidson Motorcycles and mine was an 883 Sportster. Guess what? It was another wet and rainy summer. This ended up being a blessing though, because I could not seem to grasp keeping those two wheels upright, and after the third wipeout (this one more serious than the first two, but aside from my ego, thankfully no one was hurt), I decided this motorcycle hobby probably was not for me. Clearly, we did not have the weather Gods on our side when we invested in these summer toys. As luck would have it, once the boat and the motorcycle were gone, we had a beautiful summer the following year, so when my mom announced that she wanted a convertible, we immediately thought she was going to jinx the weather for the rest of the season. One day they happened upon a little two-seater BMW Z3 Roadster, in a bright yellow and my mom was in love. Luckily the bad weather spell seemed to have moved on because we had some pretty nice summers from then on.
My mom and stepday took this car to many places and had so much fun with it. An amusing story I remember is shortly after they got that little car, I was talking with my mom on the phone and she was complaining about how both she and my stepdad were putting on some weight, and she couldn’t figure out why. I was asking her if they had changed their eating habits, or were sitting around too much, and she said no, nothing had changed. Then a few minutes later she said “Oh wait … I know what it is. A couple of nights a week after dinner, we take the little car out for an evening ride … to Oberweis!” If you are not familiar with Oberweis, it is a very delicious ice cream store, and my mom had a fondness for pineapple shakes. I’m glad they figured that one out before they no longer fit in that little car!
Eventually in 2016 my mom got sick, and this car was no longer safe or practical for her to drive, so it was going to be put up for sale. Memorial Day weekend was coming up and I asked if I could take the car home with me over the long weekend to see if I liked it. I took it out for a ride reluctantly, expecting to not like sitting so low in a car after having had a few Jeeps, but I surprised myself by falling in love with that car. I drove around that night with the sun setting and the wind in my hair, Robert Plant’s song “Big Log” (very melodic) playing on the stereo, and I knew what my decision was going to be. I was not going to part with that car! I ended up buying it and each spring when I take it out for its first ride of the season the thrill is still there. As I drive around with the sun on my face and the music playing, probably louder than it should be, I know my angels on each shoulder are along for the ride.
Many people name their cars (remember Christine?), and I did the same by shortening it from “the little yellow car,” to “Little Yellow,” and eventually to L Y. Many songs have been written about cars and their owner’s love for them, including “Red Barchetta” by Rush, “Little Red Corvette” by Prince, “Mercedes Benz” by Janis Joplin, “Chevy Van” by Sammy Johns, “Greased Lightnin” from Grease, “80’s Mercedes” by Maren Morris, and “Somethin’ ’bout a truck” by Kip Moore, to name a few. It is no surprise that we feel a deep connection to these vehicles that give us so much pleasure and so many memories. I love going to car shows in the summer and seeing the pride people show in displaying their cars. And if you ask them a question about it, they will talk your ear off for hours! I have put LY in a few car shows and I always love it when people come up and ask questions or tell me of their experiences with a similar car. Even when memories start to fade, seeing an old or familiar car can bring most people back to the days when it was love at first drive, or they have memories of their parents having owned that car or perhaps learning how to drive in one similar.
Cars are such a big part of our history and for most of us they were our first taste of freedom. Almost everyone remembers their first car, and almost everyone remembers what they used to do in the back seats of those cars, but we won’t get into that here!
This next poem is a tribute to this little car that brought my mom, and now me, so much joy. And unlike that motorcycle, I’ve been able to keep all four wheels firmly planted on the ground!
Ode to the Little Yellow Car (aka LY)
When Mom wanted a convertible
We kids just rolled our eyes.
She found a little yellow one,
Imagine our surprise.
We thought it would just be a fad;
One season, it would be gone.
She had that car for thirteen years.
Once again, she proved us wrong.
My stepdad is quite a big guy
To fit a car so small,
But he drove that yellow car around
Without a care at all.
I saw them fly by one day
As I was pumping gas;
Their white hair flowing in the wind
As they quickly drove on past.
I could hear their music blasting out
From half a block away;
It was louder than it should be
As Frank Sinatra sang away.
Again I rolled my eyes at them,
But yet I had to grin.
They loved telling the stories
Of adventures they’d get in
They’d often take drives on summer nights
To the local ice-cream store.
A few weeks later, their pants too tight,
Those trips they were no more.
When Mom got sick, the car got parked
And was going to be sold.
“Let me take it for a ride,” I said,
“Before I get too old.”
To my surprise, I fell in love
And took it home with me.
I love the wind blowing my hair;
My music louder than should be.
Now I live for those summer nights
As I cruise from place to place.
I’ve got an angel on each shoulder,
And a smile upon my face.
-K.A.Bloch-
