bugged

welcome readers & writers. hope the weekend is treating you gently and joyfully.  many thanks to bess and ash for your help with creating a school supply list for the school of hard knocks yesterday!  

***

today's photo (and this adorable little VW bug itself when i saw it last saturday night) inspired me to share another excerpt from my recently completed novel, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. in this scene, Glory (my main character) is remembering how she came to be the owner of BB, her Gram's VW Rabbit. 

-

          "No need to walk me out,” Glory told Mrs. Hoffman. Glory was self-conscious about her car, an ’83 Volkswagen Rabbit; Gram had handed it down as a high school graduation present. Glory loved it so much that she planned to drive it until the wheels fell off, which might happen sooner than later, as BB’s odometer had just passed 229,000 miles. “BB” was the name Glory had given the car when she was four.  One day, as the story went, Gram had asked Glory to help her carry some things out to “the Rabbit.”  The next time Gram was over Glory insisted on carrying Gram’s purse to “the Bunny.” Gram added “Brown,” for the car was nut-brown in color, and the name stuck. BB needed repairs fairly often, and the parts were sometimes hard to come by. But the same mechanic had been working on it for years, and he loved the car as much as Glory did. He’d replaced the engine a year ago, and Glory continued to add to her auto savings each month for whatever was needed next. Happily, she’d found that repairs were still cheaper than payments and insurance on a new car.

          She relished the feel of the tatty leather seats warm on her thighs and back end when she came out of air-conditioned buildings, which in North Carolina was the case for at least half of the year. And BB still smelled of Gram, who was gone now, something like hard cover library books, spearmint gum, and the faintest smell of cigarettes from Gram’s smoking days. Glory always smiled when she remembered the time she’d dumped all of Gram’s cigarettes into the toilet; she’d been in second grade and had listened in horror at a school assembly while the school nurse explained in full detail the health hazards of smoking. At the dual discovery of a missing carton of cigarettes and a clogged toilet, Gram had been furious. But she hadn’t raised her voice even a little bit. And it gave Gram something to think about, she’d said - when she calmed down and gathered Glory up in a soft hug. Within a year or two, she’d finally steeled herself to quit. Spearmint gum, Gram’s favorite, had become the proxy.  

what about you?  have any great stories, poems, or memories to share about a favorite car? 250(ish) words or less - click on comments below.  i love to read your work.  come write with me?