Do you have a name for your car? I call mine Lancy. Lancy is the perfect mummies car, she has a nice compact exterior for easy parking, but she’s roomy inside with a lovely large wagon back end, plenty of room for baby, pram, food shopping etc. I’ve owned Lancy, a Mitsubishi Lancer Wagon for over a year now and it was only the other day when I was driving into Newcastle that I decided she needed her own name. I was willing her to overtake a truck up a hill – my inner monologue was something along the lines of: “Come on get up the hill, come on Betsy you can do it, hmm I can’t call her Betsy, umm Lancer, Lance, no not lance it’s a she, Lancy? Yeah that’ll do, Come on Lancy you can do it”. She totally over took the truck, redlining it. All my Cars have had names, hence why I thought Lancy deserved her own.
My first car was a little Ford Laser hatchback which my father gave me when I got my licence. My friends and I named Her Noah because she was filled with all sorts of stuffed animals, in my head Noah was female just super cool with a male name. Noah used to spend her time: going on late night drives to Gosford, playing music too loud, speeding around corners too fast, rubbing her belly on dirt roads and fire trails and playing chicken with guard rails up at Mt Sugarloaf. Noah only had a little engine, but before I got her she was in good nick, she had a light little body and was quite nimble. I think about Noah often and hope she’s loved wherever she is now.
I sold Noah to buy a Suzuki Vitara 4WD wagon, something a bit more capable on the dirt roads of the Watagan Mountains that I’d come to love driving. I don’t quite remember naming the Suzuki, but she became Betsy in the end. “Come on Betsy, you can do it, you can do it” Betsy’s little clapped out 1.6 engine didn’t like to move much. Once she got wound up a roundabout or corner would always come along and I’d been screaming “f*#k hold on Betsy, please Betsy” as the rear tyres squealed and bounced sideways. Betsy spent her time: on the beach, playing music too loud, bouncing around the Riffle Range, running over gutters and freaking out people in car parks (she used to pull up and smoke would rise from under her bonnet as she had messy leaks that required extra oil and water to be carried at all times). I sold Betsy when she became unused as I was walking to work and had my husband’s Patrol to drive. Betsy went to a young fella who loved her, but crashed her, she’s a cube now.
Bombodore, the Holden VT Commodore sedan. F*#k me I loved this car. I used to drive it around whenever my parents would go away – because driving a Commodore was way cooler than driving my laser, especially to go lapping in town. My mother owned her for ten years, and then I owned her for another four. She was Me. She was Family. She was Heavy, Noisy, Oily, Big, Boisterous and Beautiful. I have fond memories of riding in her as a child, found memories of freaking out my dad when he took for a driving lesson in her and found memories of the first time I drove her around in a circle in the dirt. The Bombodore spent her time: chewing up tyres and fuel, going around in circles in the dirt, playing music too loud and driving around aimlessly smelling like tobacco. She’s a cube now, I ran her into the ground and she enjoyed every minute of it, as did I. I will always love her.
There was also a point in time where I road my dad’s Honda 110 Postie Bike around, I crashed it twice and then went and bought a Honda 125 Scooter, I then fell pregnant and sold the scooter.
Anyway back to Lancy. Lancy spends her time: taking my son to swimming lessons and doing the food shopping. Umm yeah, Lancy hasn’t met a dirt road and she hasn’t had a sub-woofer and aftermarket speakers fitted – Yet – I’ve promised her there will be a time when she gets to enjoy playing music too loud and driving around aimlessly, once my sons older.
I feel that each car I’ve owned has matched the point I was at in my life. Maybe it’s that our cars are an extension of ourselves – Would you agree?