My good old Honda Accord suffered an upset stomach; had to spend the night at the dealership. And I had an upset also. No car!
Funny how some of us depend on our cars. Just knowing that there was nothing sitting there in my garage made me nervous. Of course, I could call on friends or family if I really needed to go someplace, but it’s just not the same. Your car is your escape into the broad world.
And I wondered – is it because of my western upbringing, that I just feel that I must have access to a car? Back there in south Texas most everybody drove one. If you went to Corpus or San Antonio, or the grocery store, you drove. We weren’t city folks.
For my grandparent’s generation it wasn’t cars, it was horses. And they must have had that lost feeling when the horse wasn’t there. After all, being horseless was a serious difficulty in the Old West. Remember the penalty for horse theft?
None of my grandparents ever drove a car. It was all horse, or horse and buggy. Never an automobile. (Well, there was the time grandmother Baird decided to try the Buick…). My parents were the transitional generation. Both rode horses as children; both drove their cars everyplace as adults.
Is it a western phenomenon, this fear of being unhorsed – un-"autoed?" Here in the Southeast, in Georgia, maybe it’s pickup trucks. That’s what you see on the rural dealership lots.
Modern autos are a far cry from the cars of my youth. You don’t work on your own car, not any more. The dealership plugs in some kind of analyzer to diagnose your problem. I can’t even find the carburetor. So I’m dependent on a fate I cannot control – for my mechanical horse.
Here we are, Larry Cavazos and I, climbing into the 1934 Chevvy on our way to the Frio River. My brother Walter already in back seat.
I promise to give my Honda TLC.
April 19, 2014
Happy Birthday Moina Michael, the “Poppy Lady,” of Good Hope, Georgia.
“There are only two things that a child will share willingly: communicable diseases and his mother’s age.” – Benjamin Spock.