Starting over with everything..

I lived and worked in Japan for a long time and have come back in a time of economic and ever present family drama to try and gain a foothold in my so-called home country. Armed with nothing but dog fur, a crappy car, a laptop that hates me, I try to see how far I can get.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Ode to Fura


Spring can definitely make you nostalgic. My fondest memories of spring involve being 16 and running around in Fura de Milo, my whale of a car. Most of the time I was with my three best friends acting like a complete idiot, but God it was fun. Let's see if we can go down a hill with Francesca hanging on to the hood of the car, how many hours do I have to spend waxing the back seat of the car so I could take sharp turns and make my friends slide into the harder than hell steel door and each other, let's see if we can make the racists cops think we're drug dealers by putting our pagers on the visors and get ourselves pulled over in Selah by acting normal and driving the speed limit, 25 mph- okay so that wasn't planned but none the less became an interesting story later on . I thoroughly enjoyed watching all three friends fight over and using rock, paper, scissors to finally settle who got the other seat belt in the car. Good times.

Then there was the Easter my mom and brother Jaime were gonna go out for a picnic, but it began to rain so we had the picnic in the car comfortably instead. My 1964 Plymouth Fury, with its push button automatic, 318 engine, in-dash tissue box holder, shiny mopar parts, which was more beautiful than the one pictured above , was my dream car and always will be. It saved my life and ended it's own tragically life. I will love you forever, Fura.

posted by sarah @ 4:37 PM  

2 Comments:

  • At 9:26 PM , Blogger Maurice said...

    Reminds me of my old Caprise station wagon. A chipped and peeling brown, with fake wood paneling, driver's side door jammed shut, exposed metal ceiling, ugly and slow. And Che defiantly staring from the rear bumper.
    Ahhh, pushing other cars out of the high school parking lot, camping in its spacious back, and of course, getting pulled over by police.
    You're darn right there is something about trying to follow the speed limit exactly, especially if it's a couple of brown guys, that's just asking for the cops to pull you over on account of something.
    A suburban tank before the age of SUV's, the 'wagon' was ...certainly something.

     

  • At 8:07 PM , Blogger sarah said...

    Funny thing is everyone is brown in the car, right? But we have one girl who looks white, so the cop only talks to her, like I can't speak English even though I'm driving. And he had the nerve to ask, 'do you know how fast you were going?' I said, yea, 25 miles per hour, did you clock me at 26? Then he said I was weaving over the line. I said, 'hmm yes, that would be a smart thing considering I saw you following me for about 5 blocks...' Needless to say I got a threat but not a ticket. Travel in groups- safety in numbers.

     

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