It was just days before turning the big 1-6 and one P. Cameron Kirker introduced a cranberry colored 1986 Toyota Supra to our driveway on Savannah Round. You might have thought it was the second coming based on the shrieks of joy.
Pure joy.
Most males were incapable of walking past our whip without commenting on what a sweet whip it was. It even had a removable roof, did I tell you that? Don't go confusing it for a convertible because that makes it sound like it was an easy process. It required unscrewing four screws that held it firmly in place. Then, we would have to each get on a side and carefully place it in the "holder" in the trunk. If you were alone and beach-bound... you were outta luck. It was a 2 person job at best. That same roof would go on to leak every time it rained, but WHO cared? It was our very own set of badass wheels.
Once, dad threatened to take back ownership of this lovely vessel-for-freedom. It was based on one thing. He said if we ever got so much as a warning from a cop, it was his. HIS. It always was, but this was a bigger deal. It meant we got his vehicle. Y'all, he drove the Silver Bullet aka the Babe Magnet.
that closely resembled a dust buster.
I found it hilarious. Kristin did not. This was enough of a dynamic to keep up both on our best behavior. We never did get a ticket or a warning. Can you believe it? Me neither.
So, later, I would go on to use the Bullet in college. It built my character. Then, I used mom's brown Camry station wagon. I loved it. Even though I drove it in to the garage once. (In my defense, that garage came out of NO where.)
I feel sure I've told this story before, but its worth mentioning again. In college, my dad came to visit and took me to dinner. He asked, "so, if you had your dream car, what would it look like?" I quickly answered, "I don't know- a neutral color... a sedan... a SUN ROOF." He paused... and said, "well, you now have a beige Toyota Camry with a sun roof." That restaurant (Rising High in Columbia's 5-points) has never heard such noises. I started screaming. And jumping. And screaming. And hugging. And screaming.
I loved that vehicle so. I even climbed in its passenger side door for 6 months when both driver side door handles broke off. Later that year, I would single-handedly dismantle my car door and replace both handles with the ones I purchased for pennies on Ebay. I will, forever, be pretty dang thrilled about that accomplishment.
That faithful Camry went on to be Kristin's when she returned from her 2 years in Chicago and still lives in Columbia at the Rochester Manor. Not for long, I have a feeling. She's old. She's tired.
I have my mom's old beige Toyota Camry with a Sunroof. One year newer than my old one. OH how I love this car. I have had a few opportunities to upgrade and leave her behind but I just can't. We're friends. She makes a weird sound, I get her looked at. She makes noises that are old-age and I pretend I haven't heard a thing... like when an elderly person passes gas. It didn't happen.
I'm about to hop in my little chariot and head toward the East. I'm homeward bound to celebrate Christmas with Mom, Dad, Kristin, Chad, Aunt DeeDee, Uncle Bill, Basil and Izzy. We will eat, we will bask in loveliness, we will enjoy snow, we will sing. we will laugh.
What is better?
A most LOVELY Christmas to you.
love, Kelley
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