THE CAR THAT GOT AWAY

Well, some of you may realize that my last post about the car was an old one. My husband Billy knows nothing about cars except that he tries not to drive old ones. 
We drive a high end Honda Accord. He paid cash for it. It's a really reliable car and has lots of power. He's had it since we met so I'd say it's about 6 years old. 

From what I understand the Hondas are really long lived cars and they hardly ever break down. 

I feel really bad saying it, but I don't like our car very much. It's just not me. I would never have picked it out or even looked twice at it. And the truth of the matter is, I'm not that much a car person. Or at least I don't think of myself as a car person.

I haven't even thought about cars since we married–until–last Saturday. A lady from our church was leaving. She's moving to Washington DC to live in an assisted living facility and to be near her son. She held an open house to have all her friends stop in and to say good bye. I was late getting there. Only her son and daughter remained. I was getting ready to leave after a brief visit when the daughter began talking about selling her mom's car.

OMG can you hear me say it? 

Can you hear me sayin' I WANT THAT CAR!!!

Ever since Billy and I moved into our house I've been watching Margie, who lives close by, drive by our house in her shiny black Audi wagon. Margie is a classy looking lady. She's artsy, wears huge round tortoise shell glasses and sheik clothes. Her house before she moved was full of beautiful art. The car suited her. It was a perfect fit. As we were talking she told me about buying the car 10 years ago. She was driving down the street and saw it on display in the car lot and made a u-turn and bought it!

"It was love at first sight," she told me.

"I understand," I said. I did understand. That's exactly the way I felt about it.

So I was surprised when they began talking about selling it for 5 or 6 thousand dollars. Five or six thousand dollars for that beautiful car!! Just because it's 10 years old doesn't mean it's not worth more than that! (a little anthropomorphic of me isn't it)?

What I was really thinking was that I was only 6 thousand dollars away from paradise. I began calculating in my head how many Shoaf's Loaf organic freshly ground wheat berries I'd have to grind to pay for it. I tried to use caution but it was useless. I couldn't fight the little photographic demons who pasted me in the driver's seat with the sun roof back and me on a good hair day, sunglasses, lipstick, maybe even nail polish. The image was burned into my head. Now what would my bread clients think when I pulled up in their driveway in that car. They'd think, "Well she doesn't really need to be selling bread, obviously. She must be doing this because she's bored playing bridge at the Country Club or traveling to Egypt and India all the time. Aren't we lucky to have such a refined, wealthy person baking our bread." That's what they'd be saying about me delivering loaves of bread in such a car.

And it wouldn't just be the people I deliver bread to who would think such things about me. I bet some of the people at the grocery store would think similar things. Especially if I wore makeup and my one pair of expensive shoes(It's the shoes that give you away, cheap shoes, no. no.no).

I don't know what took hold of me but I must say I probably shouldn't write about it because I seem to be conjuring the same spirits up again. 

When I came home to tell Billy about the car and what a great deal it was and how much I wanted it he said, "What? We don't have 7 thousand dollars right now to buy a car we don't need. We're in the middle of a depression. Do you know the stock market closed down 300 points today? We don't need to be spending that kind of money now. Do you know what could happen if we had an emergency?" He said other things but I'll spare you. You can figure them out if you try. I have my own tape of them I keep with me all the time just in case I see something ridiculous I simply have to have. Slip the tape in, listen to it a few times then no more demonic possession! Well, I'm just kidding about taping Billy talk about money. Obviously I haven't done it, but I could save both of us a lot of hot air exchanges if I did. 

In all honesty I have a confession to make.
That 1980 yellow Mercedes I bought 10 years ago? ouch. No, that's OUCH!

I can hardly bring myself to think about it. It still hurts. I should have known better. The guy I bought it from was the neighbor of a woman I was doing some landscaping for. As I look back on it I should have know he was "dumping" the car on me. He was the kind of guy who'd ask me to come over and look at his back yard and talk. He was constantly talking about how he could do things on the cheap, how he was going to make his back yard into all these rooms and how much money he made as an executive out in California and other things that should have made me pause. He was a DIY guy who was never going to hire anyone to work in his yard unless he was getting a "deal." I couldn't afford to be anybody's "good deal." 

But I remember the day I was working there in his neighborhood and I saw that yellow mercedes station wagon pull into his driveway it was as if I'd been hit by a thunderbolt. "Oh, man, what a car!"

Even now, from time to time I see a vintage Mercedes station wagon and long for it. There was just something about it.

In fact, I was stuck in traffic yesterday, that long train that takes a nap a couple of times a day right at the Highland and Southern crossing and a yellow Mercedes wagon zoomed right by me. It was close to a 1980 model. There were a couple of faded peace stickers on the back window and a young hippie at the wheel. I STILL want that car. It rides close to the ground and the windows are big and there are lots of them.

Now that I look back on it, the guy talked a lot about the Mercedes station wagon and what a great car it was and they he hated to get rid of it but he just didn't have room for it any more. He told me his wife complained about it being in the garage that it was in perfect condition. 

Well, I bought the car. I went to the bank and they loaned me the money because they knew who I was and knew I had a landscaping business and they knew I was buying a car that was worth what I was paying for it. 

I was so happy.

If you read the article about it you know how happy I was with that car. 

After I'd driven it for a few weeks I started noticing a little pull in the transmission. I ignored it, of course.

When the children were home for Christmas we had a great time driving it. They loved it too. Mamie was still in college in New York, Sarah had moved back to Tennessee. Martha was still in high school. In fact, on New Year's eve she used the car to go and visit some friends. I go a call at about 8 o'clock. She said she'd started the car, put it in drive but it wouldn't go into gear. 

I almost threw up. I knew it was bad news.

After the holidays and everyone went back to school I put the car on my 16 ft. trailer and hauled it down to Memphis Motor Werks where they looked at it then looked at me and said, "Why in the world did you buy this car without having us look at it first? We would have told you the transmission was going out."

That was one of the hardest lessons I've ever learned. I had to pay for a car I couldn't drive. I finally sold the car for parts for $500.00 and bought a Volvo station wagon. Those were lean times, my friends. Lean times.

A lot of things went through my mind when I was yearning for the Audi station wagon. Naturally the disaster of the yellow Mercedes was one of them. I thought about the political capital I'd be spending in my marriage if I somehow wrangled Billy into saying, "yes." I wouldn't be able to say, "You know, we need a new front door. That door is so shabby and a storm door/security door would save in the long run." or "I haven't bought a really nice skirt in three years. I just happened to see this one at Banana Republic."

I would have strapped our budget. I would have put myself in debt and under pressure to sell how many loaves of bread? How many loaves of bread would it take to buy a new car?

I stuck my lip out. I slammed cabinet doors. I with drew my affection and became silent and sullen just like I used to do when I was 6. It drove my mother crazy. But it usually worked.

Finally Billy and I had to talk about it. I didn't like the way he said "we can't afford it right now." He didn't like the fact that I wanted something and he couldn't buy it for me. His feelings were hurt. So were mine.

I had to let it go.

I've been wandering in magic land for a couple of days. I love what baking bread and starting a small business has done for my soul. All ready I feel launched. Strange. I've been earth bound. 

Earlier in the week my son Sam called me from Savannah where he and Sarah live. "Mom," he said, "Uh, I've been looking at your web site. It's looks really good."

His words meant so much to me. I'm always amazed when my children pat me on the back. Not amazed at them, they're people who know how to encourage others. I'm amazed because

I know they really mean it and if Sam says my web site looks really good then, hey, I just have to take that and believe it. Like the late Vince Lombardy said, "If it's true–it ain't braggin.' "

Then he said, "I'd like to place an order. I want a loaf of bread, cinnamon rolls and some of Aunt Velma's rolls."

He even wanted to pay me!

We worked it out. He paid for the shipping(he gets a discount because he's a fedex courier).

So last night I went into the attic and got a box that had come to us recently. It was full of those awful squiggly things that are perfect for shipping frozen bread. I carefully packed the bread into the box and taped it and took it right around the corner to the fedex store on Poplar and Greer. And right about now somewhere up in the skies over America a simple little box is packed onto a plane. It's roaring through the clouds.

And this afternoon when my two Savannah children get home from work they'll have a package to open and yummy memories will overtake them. Memories of me in the kitchen and hot bread coming out of the oven. 

Makes me happy, even if I don't have a very cool car. 

I'm a person with a rather sordid past when it comes to cars. I come from a long line of people who know nothing about automobiles. I'm reminded of Scarlett O'hara's mule when I think of my cars. I just whip, refuse to give them oil or water until finally they keel over on the side of the road. 

We had an old brown Mercury. When we bought it a few years back, it was still in good shape. It was an old luxury car that was actually made in the same decade we were driving it. The Mercury soon developed a wide array of problems. The windows wouldn't go down anymore when you pushed the little buttons. The oil leaked and dripped on the engine, and smoke came into the car through the air conditioning vents. When you're choking and coughing on the fumes, it would be a perfect time to roll the windows down, that is, if the little buttons worked.

I bought a new car. Well, it's not really new. It's –how shall we say it– previously owned? For 20 years? Yes. It's a 1980 Mercedes station wagon, a diesel. I just happened to run across it in the used car section of the paper. I was looking for another Mercury when MERCEDES caught my eye in the M's.

It was one of those "must see to believe" and "mint condition" things. The minute I sat behind the wheel and heard the engine purr, I knew I had to have it.

When I'm driving in my Mercedes wagon, I can't believe my good fortune. I have a car that runs. The windows go up and down. The radio works. When I park in someone's driveway, I don't have to put cardboard under the motor to keep oil from leaking onto their nice clean concrete. I can stop at red lights or eek along in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and I don't see smoke billowing out from under my hood. Plus, the interior doesn't smell like dirty socks.

I like to think people believe I bought this car new and have just taken good care of it. They might just think that too because when I'm driving it, I assume a certain posture. My chin is up just a bit.

I've begun to see myself in a different light. In fact, I've begun to think I'm just like other people. No, I'm serious, really, no kidding.

I can walk into a bank and borrow money, eek past a credit check at Macy's, access my email and drive a car that doesn't leak oil, I must be almost normal.

I'm changing my ways. I'm changing my oil. I have my very own used car that suits me to a tee and I'm hittin' the roads. Remember, it's a yellow Mercedes station wagon. Honk if you see me. You'll recognize me. I'm the little blonde driving with my nose just a bit in the air. I'm the one who's smiling and, for a change, not blowin' smoke.