I almost forgot but the Elizabethfriend reminded me how Babar was practically a traveling kitchen, too. Who needs a camper van?? Not me! We used the balmy insides right by a window to melt cheese on tortillas and create what Elizabeth dubbed "car-sadillas".
I also baked cookies in him once. It was the hottest part of the Texas summer whilst I was doing my internship and every day as I'd eagerly climb into Babar after work I'd exclaim "It's as hot as an oven in here!". And that just got the idea wheels spinning, you know? So one day I parked at the very tippiest top of the parking garage with a sheet full of chocolate chip cookie dough carefully placed in the rear window. "Work your magic Babar, work your magic" I thought as I walked into work and left my experiment in the hands of the car baking gods.
And my faith was rewarded.
I came out that day to the most titillating of fresh cookie smells and the gooiest most perfectly done but not really done confectionery morsels. Oh was that ever the best commute home!
(and i was the most courteous of drivers..."go ahead, merge, i'll just grab another one of these tasties...")
(why i don't do that everyday escapes me. until i remember that might not work as well on a bike. and also, eating cookies everyday is frowned upon? especially a whole sheet?)
But back to Babar. He wasn't always the troopiest of troopers. On one especially looooong to-Idaho-or-bust road trip he threw in the towel. We were cruising down the highway at 75 mph one minute, and inexplicably stranded on the side of it the next. In the westernmost parts of Nowhere, Nebraska. I found out later that it was just a little sensor that pooped (that might not be the technical term) but it was sure an adventure getting him to a shop and then bunking with a friend-from-girls-camp's family that night.
However unreliably reliable, Babar still made it to the moon. It was a challenge I gave him who-knows-when - 245,632 miles and counting. Can your car claim that?
And, without further ado, the rest of my hit and run story. From Babar's perspective, again. [see part 1 here]
I rolled slowly along while a marvelous display of light lit up my insides. The way the sunlight hit the frost on my front windshield and sparkled every which direction with intense, colorful rays was just beautiful.
Beautifully blinding.
"Blast. I can't see a thing. We're going to be late! Ugh...I HAVE to pull over and scrape this stupid windshield!"
It was such a Kyoo moment. I knew she didn't actually think my windshield was stupid, but the word attack was taking its toll as she slowly maneuvered me to the side of the road. I guess I wasn't paying much attention either when it happened.
CRUNCH!!
"Expletive! What did I hit??"
I already knew. It was the bumper of the neighbor's truck. She normally parked it on the other side of the street. But sometimes, when she got home from work particularly late, she'd park it on the opposite side. The side Kyoo had just tried to pull over on.
Oh did that crunch ever instigate a panic. Kyoo was all shook up. But, amidst it all, and despite the fact that she was just kitty-corner from her house, she was still bent straight on getting to school on time. The damage survey was brief and, with shaking hands and a worried countenance, she took control of the wheel again and was off.
If I could talk there would have been conversation starters of "hit and run" and "crime" and other trivial, impertinently pertinent matters. But I can't talk. I saw the bumper of that truck and how it was bending in a direction it's never bent before, but the Kyoodriver would need to mull that over on her own. And, judging by the tense silence in the car, she was mulling.
All 8 blocks to school.
Meanwhile, I was starting to notice a sharp pain on the right-most part of my fender and headlight. A splitting headache for a car, if you will. Something was not right.
Kyoo discovered the source of my aching upon arriving to school. I can't remember if she said anything, but she didn't have to. I could see the gaping hole that used to be my headlight in the reflection of her sunglasses.
"My headlight!" I thought, "It's gone! And my side has a crater as long as her arm!!". I was a mess. A complete mess.
But nowhere near the disaster that was Kyoo. She looked downright sick. I don't know how she even dragged herself into that building, 10 torturous minutes later. I surmise she sat in class all morning feeling sicker and sicker and not able to focus at all as she came to a full realization of what had happened and the kind of trouble she could get in. Not only with her parents, but with the law.
That's probably why I saw her dart from the school building seconds after the lunch bell rang and run towards her house. She could have utilized my services but I think she was too afraid to drive at that point. I imagine she ran home and confessed everything to the Kyoomom and took a closer survey of the neighbor's truck and left a note and maybe ate a teeny tiny little bit of something and cried a bit before she ran back to school.
Ok, she cried a lot. Her eyes were all puffy and red when she got back. And not "I've been running thru the wind and biting cold" red and puffy.
I'm sure it was AWFUL for her.
Even more awful, later I heard that fixing that little encounter cost her most of her previous summer's earnings. Which is a big deal because I know Kyoo spent hours in a stifling corn field walking thru sludge and getting accosted by knife-like leaves to earn minimum wage at the time. (all of $6.25, minus state and federal taxes). I felt bad that I cost nearly $1200 to get back to my former glory. But not as bad when I heard that that measly truck bumper stole another $500. Talk about high maintenance! At least I had significant damage to justify my cost!
But, I think it was a good lesson for Kyoo. A hardest of hard lesson, but a good one nonetheless. She seemed a more responsible driver after. A little more aware and a little more cautious.
But then again, it could be because the Kyoodad made her take my busted out headlamp with her everywhere she drove as a reminder of what just a second or two of inattention could cost.
And that, children, is the story of my hit and run. The one story I'm sure I will never forget about my trusty college car.
Babar, you were great. And in your most inanimate of objectly ways, you made me love you. The memories live on.
*tear*
Good bye.
Have a great day :-)
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