Big Blue

My car trouble of the week involves a 1995 Chevrolet truck. We loved this truck when we first bought it. Wes was taking art classes at VSU, and it worked well for hauling around his life-sized canvases. (That's another issue by the way. Walk out of our guest bathroom, and confront a 5 x 8 ft. portrait of Wes's face in orange and black reminiscent of suspect number 2 in the Oklahoma bombing case. It's enough to make you need to return to the bathroom.)

Okay, back to big blue . . .This truck rocked. It hauled all our stuff. I used it the semester I was writing. I drove it to Chattahoochee, Florida, where we used to have a cabin, my dog Seminole riding in the back. I wrote every week and then returned to Valdosta on the weekends. I felt like I needed Seminole with me for protection on those trips. The neighbors were nice, but I heard faint strains of "Deuling Banjos" every time I pulled into the driveway. One of the neighbor's houses, a nice-looking brick house, sported three holes on the roof, covered with a black tarp.

Eventually, that semester ended. Wes regained his truck, and I reclaimed my 1990 silver Mustang. I finally bought a new car, a 2002 silver Nissan Xterra; a year later my parents decided to sell their 2002 Toyota Prius that I had been driving (another long story) for four months, so we bought it. Wes got the Xterra, and I took the Prius.

We abandoned Big Blue, retiring it to a corner of the yard, only pulling it out when we wanted to take Seminole for a walk around campus or when we had to set up Wes's booth at the South Georgia Bridal Expo.

Then, the Xterra needed some work, so Big Blue came out of retirement. Normally, this isn't a problem, but tonight Wes has to take pictures at the Mr. ABAC contest in Tifton, so he's driving my Prius, and I get . . . yep, you guessed it, Big Blue.

I still like Big Blue, but I'm out of practice driving him. I crank him up, and he growls. Remember, I'm used to a hybrid, sometimes electric, always quiet. I look around, waiting for someone to shush me and Blue. Blue disregards others' thoughts, making as much noise as he wants.

I tap the gas to pull out of the driveway, and he pounces onto the road, shooting gravel behind us, demanding people get out of his way. Yeah, I could get used to that. I start feeling invincible when I'm behind the wheel--at least, until I tried to park downtown. In my Prius, I just pulled into parallel parking spaces, no manuevering needed. The parking spaces laugh at me as I drive slowly by them tonight; they taunt me.

I circle the block and finally find three spaces in a row. "I can do this," I tell myself, trying to bolster my confidence, but I secretly agree with the parking spaces. I pull into the spaces and try to center myself; then I back up just a tad in case someone parks too close in the front. "Yes!" I congratulate myself, step out of Big Blue, and grab my laptop bag to head to Write Night. When I step out of the truck, I realize that Big Blue is taking up a space and a half. I look at the truck and consider moving it, but decide against it. Big Blue deserves a little space, and I deserve coffee and cheesecake, preferably both. I miss my Prius.