Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Camy-I

Have you ever heard the theory that people look like their dogs? Someone who owns a Bulldog might be a little bit gruff-faced, the owner of a Whippet might be extremely thin and athletic, or the owner of a lab might have big brown eyes.

I have a theory that people look like their cars.  Okay, maybe not look like them, but they drive a vehicle that reflects their personality.  Cars a symbol in Western culture.  They are a symbol of who you are, where you work and how much money you make.  Of course, you shouldn't be surprised to learn this, the American Dream is lurching everywhere.

Like it or not, in our culture, cars are tied to our identity.  Think how big of a deal it is to turn 16 and get your first car, or to work your butt off for years to purchase your first vehicle.  How many country songs are written about an old truck or 'ol blue or some other nickname used for a vehicle?  In fact, lots of people name their cars.  I know a majority of my friends have nicknames for their cars.  We include them in our nightly plans as if they were a member of the gang. "Let's take Sharla, she'll be best on fuel!"

Our personal vehicles are more than just a means of getting around, they are devices that truly transport us.  We let them carry us through different defining moments of life, and like a wise elder, they sit quietly and ask only for a little TLC when needed.  For this reason they are all the more cherished and accepted as one of our own.

With that in mind, I'd like to introduce you to a very dear friend of mine.  Meet Camy, the feisty red-head with big dreams and a fearless heart.

Camy is actually my second car.  After lots of shopping around and comparing safety features, my Dad bought her for me as a graduation present.  Though I wasn't fond on the shape of a Toyota Camry at first, I decided the Sports Edition would grow on me.  I have this impression that Camrys are normally sold as a Mom car or as a travel car for people in their mid-forties and up.  They are very economical cars with great gas mileage, not something you typically see an 18 year old driving around in.  Nevertheless, Camy and I have really grown to be great friends.

I was originally attracted to her because of her beautiful taillights.  The design of the Sports Edition looks like rhinestones are placed inside the taillights.  Being the blinged-out Senior in high school that I was, I loved that my car matched my favorite rhinestone accessories, but particularly my rhinestone ring I wore quite often.  The next thing I loved about my new friend, was her sunroof.  With rhinestones and a sunroof, I knew this chick would be a great companion for me.  My father of course, was sold on the fact that these cars run forever and are very safe.  The gas mileage was great which is good for a daughter traveling back and forth on her own across the state.

Other than making Sonic runs in Frederick, my first big moment with Camy was during the second semester of my Freshmen year.  I was attending WOSC in Altus and things were going well.  Once a week I was driving to Lawton for Mary Kay Meetings, but this particular week I had happened to go to a Mission Trip meeting at the Lawton BCM director's house instead.  Camy made the trip there and back like a champ.  She was superior.

The next day I hoped in my stylish ride like always.  I parked her in the back parking lot at school while I completed my morning classes, then I whipped in Wal-Mart for some household items and then finally parked in the Plantation parking lot where I was going to visit Grandma Sadler for a bit.

As I got out of my car, I shut the door and happily started walking towards the front doors of the building.  A few steps in, I turned around to look at my car as I pressed the lock button, and in a matter of seconds my entire world came crashing down.

I looked again.  Surely this is a dream!  Should I slap myself?  When did this happen?  How do I not know about this?  Am I alive?  Was I in a car wreck?  A total state of shock washed over me as I stood in the parking lot staring at my beautiful car.  I had been so diligent with her for the past ten months.  I washed her weekly, kept the tank full and drove her as gently as I could.  Yet somehow, the entire back end of her bumper was gone.  The beautiful taillights I had fallen in love with was shattered on the right side.  The outer red shiny plastic above the right tire was bent back so far that I could actually see the black metal frame that held my car together.  Needless to say, the entire right rear side of my vehicle was obliterated.

Panic, shock, fear washed over me.  I swallowed hard as big alligator tears voluntarily swelled up in my eyes.  I did the only thing my mind could think of.  I called Dad.

"Yeah, Haley."  He answered the phone.

Despite my desire to be strong and brave, I began sobbing.  I didn't know what to say.  I couldn't even tell my Dad what happened because I didn't know.  My heart was so sad and disappointed in whatever I did that was wrong.

Through sobs and tears I managed to get it out. "My car is broken."

Dad, calm and cool as ever, asked me to clarify my situation.

"I don't know.  I got out to go see Grandma and I looked and my bumper is messed up, the taillight is broken and I can see metal!

I'm so sorry, Dad.  I didn't hit anything.  I don't know what happened. "

"Well some one probably hit it.  Those things happen."

Dad seemed way too calm for this situation.  Those things happen??  What do you mean those things happen?  People go around smashing each other's cars for no reason?  Why did this happen to me?  I was being so careful!

Without much emotion, Dad told me it would be okay and that he would look at it in the next day or two.

Contrary to Dad's coolness, I was still a complete mess.  My stomach hurt, my heart was broken, I couldn't even go face Grandma.  So I went home.  I went home, sat down in our old red recliner and I texted my best friend, Abbye.

"I need a hug. :("

She sent back a sad face and said she'd be home soon.  While I waited all I could do was hold myself and cry.  Why would someone hit my car and not tell me?

My poor, poor Camy.  I had been so careful and so nice to her too.  She didn't deserve this.  She wasn't even a year old!

When Abbye came home she walked in the front door with a look of panic and concern on her face.  She saw me in the red chair and immediately came over to give me a big huge bear hug that was her specialty.  I bawled into her shoulder for a few minutes and then stopped to get a Kleenex and a deep breath.  She patted my shoulder and then asked me what was wrong.

After telling her my life-altering news, she laughed.

"Why are you laughing?"  I said through a red face and a crooked frown.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't funny.  It's just that, I thought it was something bad like boy trouble or death."

Okay her point wasn't totally out of line.  But I still felt awful.  Luckily, Abbye knew exactly what to do next.

"I'm taking you to get ice cream."

You would be utterly amazed at how far a cup of Braum's Birthday Cake Ice Cream goes.


So that was my first dose of reality, I would say.  I learned that people can be mean and careless and not have to suffer any consequences for it.  I also learned that you can be a good Christian lady, work hard, clean your car every week, and bad things can still happen to you.

Camy was there for that important life lesson.  Luckily she was as good as new with a small insurance claim and a couple thousand dollars.  A good waxing and her and I were shiny buddies again.

It wasn't until several months later that we made our first big adventure together.

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