This column has turned into a
delightful obsession for me. It’s the perfect excuse to turn my
little mind loose to wander down memory lane. The real fun is when
it gets totally lost. The good, the bad and the ugly!
In the late nineties I owned my
absolutely, no hands down, favorite car. She was a 1978 Chevy
Malibu. I bought her from a lil’ old lady that had bought it new
off the lot, then kept her garaged. Low mileage, four doors, six
seat belts, automatic transmission (thankfully – put me with a
manual transmission and I –will- get in trouble), V-8 (I can’t
remember if she had a 305 or a 350), absolutely pristine! Oh, I
babied that car, and it was perfect for me and my boys.
My boys’ usually went to work with
me, but one day their father decided it was too nice a day for work
and school. Yep – the guys played hooky. Sometimes the best “sick
days” are the ones you simply lay back and enjoy, and I could work
without trying to keep up with my brood.
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Trunk, decimated; back seat broken in
half; the bolts that held the drivers seat down broke too, and I was
thrown half way into the back seat in spite of my seat belt. At
least the other driver was kind enough to spin me onto the road I was
trying to turn into. And, thankfully, my boys’ weren’t with me.
I hurt for months after the accident,
but I only had one black-and-blue mark. My mother happened to drive
by shortly after. I was out of the car and searching for my glasses
and cigarettes. It was too soon for the pain to set in. With my
head in the passenger side of the car, digging under the seat, my mom
grabbed my arm, drug me out and spun me around. She left her
hand-print on my arm. A perfect, five finger, full palm hand print.
Try to explain that one to the doctors.
Well, the car lived on. She was
totaled. No question about that one, but the motor and transmission
were just fine. The insurance adjuster (after I got done haggling
and arguing with him) said I could keep my car for $50. At first I
just looked at him like he was stupid. I’ll admit it. Then I
informed him the crusher would give him (at that time) $50 for the
car, it would cost him $45 to tow it, so I offered him five bucks.
He laughed, shook his head, and told me to keep my car.
That’s when the –real- fun began!
I gave each of the boys a screwdriver
and told them if you see a screw, take it out. They had a BLAST!
Doors, radio, seats, a few things I really didn’t want them to take
out, but, oh well. It turned into the car they learned to drive in.
They got to sit on Mama’s lap (some couldn’t reach the gas and
brake pedals back then) and drive. Up the driveway, down the
driveway, up the driveway, down the driveway… By the time they
could get their learner’s license, they all knew how to drive.
Can’t say they were all –good- drivers, but they could drive.
A couple of good friends helped me fix
‘er up. Beverly Hillbilly’s of the South kinda car. The bench
seat over the trunk and steer horns on the front were an added bonus.
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| The Malibu |
- Bess
A jack of all trades, Ms. Tuggle has been a Covington resident since the late 70’s. She's been a K-Mart cashier, cabinet builder, vet tech, office manager for a beef cattle ranch and water well company (where she was able to hold benefits for D.A.R.E. and Scouts), a court reporter, business manager, assistant at a private investigation firm, legal assistant, convenience store clerk, landscaper and elementary school substitute teacher. Her greatest pleasure is being a wife, mother and grandmother. Her stories are all real, and all names will be withheld to protect the innocent, and also maybe the guilty, depending on the crime & the Statute of Limitations.
