This week’s Listicle for Northwest Mommy has to do with our vehicles. Some of us Mommy-writer- teacher types are driving cars, trucks, minivans, and SUVs that could shit the bed at any time. I am convinced that prayers, petrified French fries, and baby spit-up are holding my 2001 SUV together. Since my girl is getting ready to trip 200,000 miles, I think it’s fitting to celebrate her a little for keeping us safe and getting us where we need to be for almost 11 years.
- We’ve taken my truck all over the beaches of the National Seashore. We’ve only had to dig her out of the sand once. NEVER have we had to call the $150 hooptie beach towing service to snatch her out.
- Mr. Jenn and I broke in the backseat. TMI, but it sure was fun.
- Sand and salt water rusted out the brake lines. I did not soil myself when the brakes failed. I wrote about it here.
- My truck has towed everything from boats, to campers, to enough lumber to build a house.
- Mr. Jenn and I took turns kneeboarding behind our SUV. One of us drove on the sand beside a tide pool on the National Seashore, and the other held onto a rope on a kneeboard in the tidepool. The pool was about fifty yards long right in the middle of the beach. It was all fun and games until the knee board hit the sand at the other end. I swear no alcohol was involved on the outset. Much Ibuprofen followed all our dipshittery, though.
- Our truck has had the pleasure of snatching a station wagon, a two-wheel drive SUV, and a Honda Civic out of deep sand at the beach. If a truck could smile, ours would have as she dragged that Civic back to the asphalt where it belonged. We, on the other hand, wasted good beach time dealing with that asshat who thought it would be fun to drive a Civic over a sandune. He had blocked the trail to the beach when he buried his car, so we had no choice but to haul him out. We had worms that needed drowning before the tide went out. Additionally, he made me late for my beach nap.
- The truck has a couple of dents. One happened when we pulled in to a Dairy Queen with our camper behind us. We knew there wasn’t much room to turn around, but nothing matters when you need a hot dog and a Blizzard, right? Even DQ hot dogs have a crappy aftertaste, however, when you have to turn so sharply that your trailer hitch apparatus stabs a hole in your bumper. I told Mr. Jenn he should have driven over those damned azaleas. Who slaps a flower bed in the middle of a parking lot anyway?
- The other dent happened when Mr. Jenn drove our riding lawnmower into the right rear quarter panel. Our tractor is older than dirt like most of our junk. It doesn’t have brakes, so it started rolling down the hill. Mr. Jenn swears he couldn’t stop it. Whatever. He only spilled a little bit of his beer when the collision occurred.
- I’ve had the better part of a third grade class stuffed inside the truck. It’s hauled kids to football, cheerleading, soccer, volleyball, band, golf, swimming, and ballet practice. No wonder it stinks.
- Mr. Jenn drove both my babies home safely from the hospital in the backseat of my SUV. I sat perched on my donut pillow beside them watching over their every breath and wondering what I had done to deserve such a miracle in this life.
So, yeah, I have a lot of memories in this vehicle. I plan to drive the tires off. Are you as attached to your vehicle as I am to mine? If so, why?