Fast Living

By Elaine Viets

 
"Nice car," the mysterious stranger at my local gas station said to me. "What year?"

"Blackie’s an ’86 Jaguar," I said.

"He’s in good shape," the man said. "If you ever want to sell, here’s my card." It said "Miami Movie Cars."

He was driving a beat-up black Crown Vic police car. He said the film makers were going to shoot a TV show episode and a 1980's cocaine cowboy film in Fort Lauderdale and South Beach.

Sell Blackie? Never! Blackie is the second great love of my life after Don, and my husband’s not on the market, either.

Blackie and I were enormously flattered, though, and drove away trailing stardust. Blackie is short for Black Beauty. With his chrome and red leather interior, this Jaguar is one cool cat.

I’ve named all my cars, except one, because they have distinct personalities.

My first car was the Blue Bomber, an oil-aholic Plymouth Fury. I bought it for $450 dollars to drive to college. It looked like the blue Fury in this photo, except my Blue Bomber guzzled so much oil, I carried a case of oil in my trunk. We could usually make it to class and back on one refill. The Blue Bomber rode in a permanent cloud of stinky blue smoke. Someone gave me a "Have You Thanked a Green Plant Today?" sticker, but I was too embarrassed to put it on the bumper. No one could have read it through the smoke, anyway.

Don bought me a  burgundy red Thunderbird for our second wedding anniversary. Her name was Ruby Red and I adored that car. Her seats were sumptuous.

When Ruby had her day, I was in the throes of a corporate career at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. I bought a boxy Volvo to go with my boxy dress-for-success suits. The Volvo was as sensible as a pair of walking shoes, and about as stylish. This Volvo had one of the first catalytic converters and I drove it mostly back and forth to the repair shop. I never warmed to that car and never named it. Not officially, anyway. But I sure called it a lot of names when I waited for a tow truck.

Finished with sensible cars, I got a sporty Mercury Cougar named Kitty. Kitty looked like a gray tabby cat, but that cat tore up the road.

Then, in the 1980s, Ralph Ingersoll started the St. Louis Sun and tried to hire me as a columnist. My paper, the Post-Dispatch, gave me an outrageous bonus to stay. I bought suede and leather outfits and a 1986 Isis blue Jaguar. The rest I spent foolishly. (Did I mention I was through with sensible?) I named my blue Jaguar Ralph, in honor of the newspaper mogul who made him possible. 

Ralph (the car) and I had twenty-two happy years together, until he had a fatal car cancer – rust. The ’86 Jaguars were a perfect design plagued by rust.

I was cruising along I-95 in Miami one afternoon when the driver’s side footwell went clattering down the highway. It had rusted clean through and I could see the road between my shaking legs while driving 70 miles an hour. Fortunately, the brake and gas pedals were still there and I made it home. But Ralph’s last ride was nearly my last ride and I had to give him up.

I tried to like newer cars, but none of them had the same sleek style or the feel of the road. Then Peter, my mechanic, found another ’86 for sale. This car was white with a red leather interior. I had him painted black and Black Beauty was born.  

There’s just one problem. Some people insist on calling him "she."

Black Beauty is all man. Can’t you tell by the tail pipe?

What do you name your car?

***

Win JUST MURDERED, my Dead-End Job mystery set at wild South Florida weddng. Click on Contests at www.elaineviets.com

 

　

　

　

　

Comments

[Margaret Turkevich]

I handed down the mom-van to my kids, and graduated to a crossover (I still haul two big dogs and loads of mulch) named Tallulah. The radio is always set to my station, the CD is always my choice, and the gas tank is always at least half full. 'Lullah is a good girl, and a great companion on the road.

[Karen in Ohio]

Yikes, my legs would be shaking, too, if the floorboard fell off beneath them!

All our family cars in my childhood were named NellieBelle, after the old Jeep on the Roy Rogers/Dale Evans show. And that's usually what I call mine, as well. But I just realized that isn't really appropriate for my newest, a sleek silver Civic with every bell and whistle they make. I think I'll call her Streak.

[Elaine Viets]

Lullah - good name. She's obviously a car with a lot of personality, Margaret.

[Elaine Viets]

I remember NeillieBele, and Trigger. But Streak is definitely a better name for a sleek silver car.

[Sue Cox]

My '94 Jaguar was always He or Him. He was with me for nearly 20 years before I finally, reluctantly, relinquished Him. He was like a bad boyfriend--treated me badly, but He was so handsome, I didn't care.

[Elaine Viets]

LOL, Sue. The things we do for car love. Is that auto-erotic?

[Mo]

I never name my cars but I do refer to my current one as my Toy or my Baby. It's a 1997 BMW Z3 Roadster Convertible I bought it new and have loved for the past 17+ years. It now has 178,000 miles on it and I will spiral into a deep depression when the day comes that I have to part with it. I hope to have many more years to drive my baby.

[Catriona McPherson]

I've never named a car, but I named a dehumidifier "Hughie"

[Elaine Viets]

Sweet ride, Mo. If/when the dreaded day comes, you can cry on my shoulder. I've felt your pain.

[Elaine Viets]

OK, I'll bite. Why Hughie?

[Ellie Enos]

My daughter bought her first brand new car in 2014. It's a black Subaru Impreza that she named Wicked Felina. The car is named for lyrics in the song, El Paso, by Marty Robbins: "Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina
Wicked and evil while casting a spell."

[Kait Carson]

What a fun story! For some reason I was reminded of my first car - a 1963 Corvair (yes, the death car). The prior owner had spray painted her matte black. There was only one name for her - Black Beauty. She was a convertible, had a roll bar and a four speed manual. Great car for a college student. Sold her for the same price I paid for her - $100.

[Elaine Viets]

Wicked Felina is a perfect name for a fast black car, Ellie. I like that song, too, but I promise not to sing it around you. It sounds like I'm torturing cats.

[Elaine Viets]

Kait, glad you survived to sell your Black Beauty. I worked with a reporter who had a blue Corvair. He loved it, despite -- or maybe because -- of the danger.

[Alan Portman]

My cars have all gone to work for a very long time. None ever got names. I do call my current car, a 2003 Saturn VUE with 240,000 very hard miles on it. It gets called, "My best friend." It is from "Men and Work" by George Will. Orel Hershiser calls his pitching arm his best friend, that he goes out and beats up every three days.

[Elaine Viets]

Considering the hours you work, Alan, your Saturn is indeed a best friend. 240,000 miles is impressive. You've treated your friend right.