Tuesday, June 28, 2005

"Drivers, Start Your Engines"

Whilst out driving the kids to school this morning, I spotted a Hillman Superminx Stationwagon on the roads. I haven't seen one of those for YEARS. Anyway, seeing that, has sparked this post.

Years ago when I was young and innocent (all of 18 years old), I met my future husband. He didn't have a car at the time, and as our relationship progressed, eventually he bought a Hillman Superminx. It had fat wheels on it (whatever that means). His brother bought the superminx wagon off the same guy (who must've decided to upgrade and get rid of all the old stuff, dunno).

The Superminx being what it was, was like driving a tank....I always felt safe in it....if anyone had plowed into me with their swanky new car, I was sure our car was going to be coming out in the better condition.

My brother in law decided he'd had enough of his, so passed it onto my husband, who in turn decided we didn't need two cars with the same name, and promptly entered himself and the car in Saturday night's Demolition Derby at the local racing track.

After messing around under the hood for hours, they hauled the car up on the back of my other brother in law's timber truck, and transported it off to the track. In those days, if I wanted to spend anytime with the man in my life, I practically had to crawl under a car to see him...in the spirit of young love...I wasn't above doing that on a regular basis. These days, spending time with the main man in my life is a much easier and less dirty experience (you know what I mean, don't be giving me any of your flack about that). I can sit here in the warmth of my home, drinking the beverage of my choice..no oil or grease in sight.

Anyway, I digress.....the big night came. The cars were all on the track revving their engines and billowing smoke...all of them fairly old and crusty, but built like brick shit-houses and one in particular stood out because of the flowers that had been painted all over it. The one and only female on the track.

I hadn't seen the car my hubby was driving for several days, so it was the first time I'd seen it since he'd been working on it. How chuffed was I to see that he'd painted my name in HUGE white block letters on the roof of it? Pretty impressed I was.

The race was on...the cars shot off around the track...crunching into each other and trying to avoid the walls of the circuit. My husband managed to get around the entire race track 3 times. Three times! He was beside himself with joy about that. Once the radiator blew and he'd coasted onto the centre green, he popped the glove box, took out the can of beer placed there for that specific ocassion and stood around yacking to the other drivers that had already been knocked out.

I didn't get to sleep until at least 4am that night. This was due to the adrenalin still pumping furiously through his veins and him continuing to say "That was fucken awesome!" for the rest of the night in bed. I was so tempted to say "For crying out loud, go to fucken sleep!" but I didn't want to wipe the smile off his face.

Besides, how could I have been annoyed at someone who had paid tribute to me, by proudly painting my name across the roof of a car he was planning to smash up?
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