Point is, I don't presently have a ton of Vespapades to report on, so instead I'm going to address some questions I've received about my Ex (vehicle, that is), the 1975 VW Bug that has earned prior mention on this blog. Aside from a few eyewitness commentators, nobody seems to believe the Bug ended up as a disco ball. Well, it did folks. But that's like putting the punchline before the not-so-funny joke. And so I’ve decided to do the Bug justice and provide you a bulleted nonfiction novelette on the topic. Reading it should take weeks, if not months, but I have decided to post it in chapters to break it down. Between this and the new Harry Potter, I shouldn’t have to write another post for a year or so. By then my scooter gang should be organized and producing regular blogfodder.
So here it goes....
Dr. Beetlemaniac
(or how my Volkswagen stopped driving and ended up as a disco ball)
Chapter 1: Freshman Year
(of college, that is; at BYU; circa 199something)
(of college, that is; at BYU; circa 199something)
- I have no car my freshman year of college and survive thanks to upperclassmen friends who do and one fellow dorm dweller with access to a Ford Festiva that seats 500 so long as the passengers are stacked one on top of the other.
- I spend the summer after my freshman year working as a cashier at a Best Buy on an Indian Reservation in Scottsdale. The “Best Buy” part of the previous sentence is key, in that anyone who has ever worked there knows what a dull place it is to work and would therefore understand that my very survival depended upon my escape into a fantasy world where I owned a super awesome car and was therefore awesome by association.
- My fixation on the VW Bug begins when a cute convertible number not far from Dave and Mary's house goes up for sale. I’m talking about a classic Bug, natch, because the new Beetle had not yet been released and, in fact, was only the subject of much urban mythlike speculation under the codename “Concept One” in noteworthy publications such as Hot VW. Unfortunately, this takes place in Arizona, and old cars are a LOT more expensive in AZ than elsewhere because they have less rust. I cannot afford the convertible wonder. I spend the summer traipsing around the Valley with Mrs. Gee, checking out lower-priced Bugs advertised in the Auto Trader and narrowly escaping from their skeezy owners. In the fall, I return to Utah for school sans Bug. Dave and Mary pray I will “grow out of it.”
But will I grow out of it? Will I ever grow out of anything, other than my clothes? Tune in next time to see...
13 comments:
Finally!! Duh.
trust me... your 'rents aren't the only ones who have been impatiently awaiting your next blog!
the beginning of the story captivated me... i can't wait for the next installment!
Taking autobiography a little literally aren't we? We weren't pressuring your authorial performance, just desperate for entertainment. Summer re-runs and cinema sequels, you know. Besides, if we're going to live with the worry of your keeping company with this dangerous, if stylish, foreigner, we at least want to get in on the thrills (but no spills). That does not constitute parental consent to scoomuting to work (as if such consent had any legal or moral sway). Given the Axis orientation of your vehicular ventures (German & Italian), we're fully prepared for future blog posts recounting your brief but exciting run as a sashimi fugu taste tester.
to familia es: my mother and i are delighted to learn that mary es also spells mommie with an "-ie", as has been regular practice in our household for some time.
to ginny: i will n'er forget that fateful night when we drove in donovan to escape the spite
of law school
and indulge in some off campus scheme
when
driving past random pool club i had only seen
but not noticed
you pointed and said
see that pole inside
at the top of said pole
is my former rad ride.
and we drove down ninth.
in a moment of silence.
"ode to wheels, the great, the first"
by nomdeplume pending
just the start of this story conjures up a prodigy soundtrack and christopher benson dance moves.
can't wait for the conclusion. you best hope i don't spread spoilers online.
That beetle teaser plus the hours-away arrivals of both Renee and Harry Potter have me beyond the edge of my seat. I'm almost upset about it... I have enough anxiety in my life.
My point: please don't delay the next chapter!!
We were just talking about Christopher Benson a few days ago...
Even though I kind of know the story... I'm anxiously awaiting Chapter 2!
christopher benson had some wickedly sweet dance moves. I should know, he took me to DV8 on a date. :)
the edge is the location of some of my favorite college memories, your bug is intertwined into those memories forever.
sigh.
can't wait to read more!
Hang on a sec, how do all these youngsters know Chris Benson?? As I was reading this I felt so special, as if I was the only one who was there. Not so, apparently, and Mrs. D actually has it set to entirely appropriate music! Oh well... as with the other Bensonheads, I eagerly await the next installment!
Dearest "Bensonheads":
First, you all kill me. I am dying laughing. As we have now broken all blog etiquette by mentioning CB's first and last names many times, we should all hope that he does not regularly search for his own name on blogger. Although if he did, how lame would that be? (And I'm not done commenting, so if all of you who just started searching for your own name on blogger could hold off 30 more seconds, I'd appreciate it. Thanks.)
Second, the irony is that CB was not there during the whole Bug adventure--he was off proselyting somewhere in Europe. He only has a walk-on part in the grand finale. So those of you who are just invested in this story for the Benson should check back in a week or so.
Third, to answer Sara's question about how everyone knows him--I'm afraid the sad truth is that CB served as the "last big crush before I met my husband" for more than one commentator here. Also, SOME people, who shall remain nameless, supported him their entire freshman year by treating him to lunch at the Museum Cafe on their Dinings Plus cash.
Fourth, there has been multiple mention of CB's great "dance moves." I concede he was pretty smooth out on the floor, but having been dancing with him more than any of you, I can assure you that he had only ONE dance move. On repeat. It's not his fault--it was the style back then for the basement floor dwellers.
Fifth, in the off-chance Mrs. CB is reading this, I just want to assure her we mean no disrespect!
was cb's repeat dance move get combined with the dancing white man overbite? you don't even have to answer, i already know the truth in my heart.
oh ginny, it's like you read my journal from 1997. neal was just reading it the other night and these words escaped his lips, "i had no idea you liked cb so much!" too bad he didn't have the guts to actually DO anything about anything. but, as you said, no disrespect. i wasn't meant to be mrs. b, but mrs. h.
btw, for whom else did he serve as "last big crush"?
i thought i was the onliest one. :)
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