Car
These are stories about life with kids and a car.
My dad used to make me brush the sand off my feet before getting into his car.
I don’t make my three kids – and it shows for more than just sand. There are candy wrappers, French fries and half-eaten apples and hamburgers waiting for anybody who wants a ride.
Hitchhikers beware!
by Charles Newbery
Posted in: Car
I guess I should have asked the kids to wipe the sand off of their feet...
I CLEANED MY car the other day. Or, more like, I had the car cleaned, not at the car wash but at the repair shop. If you know anything about my Hyundai Elantra you will understand that the mechanics either took pity on the upholstery for the blanket of apple cores, cookie crumbs and empty coffee cups mixed with dozens of toys, from books to fire trucks and princesses. Or they couldn’t handle the smell. Or they saw a creature from the deep, as have I on more than one occasion, nearly crashing once. No matter the reason, the car came back repaired, clean and smelling like a pine forest from the air freshener.
I took a deep breath. [click to continue reading…]
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by Charles Newbery
Posted in: Car
"Thank god the beast is gone. More goodies for us, eh mates?"
MY CAR IS never too clean. Occasionally I get out the bucket and fill it with hot, soapy water. I hose down my car and lather it in soap and scrub before taking the vacuum cleaner to its innards. The vacuum sucks up dirt, leaves, sand and parts of plastic toys. It sucks up crumbs and months-old French fries. A plastic bag is filled with books, flip-flops, notebooks, pencils, pens, pinecones, teddy bears, toys, shoes, seashells, sweaters and underwear. Yes, underwear. Another bag is filled with trash too big for the vacuum’s nozzle. In go candy wrappers, cookies, empty apple juice boxes, pamphlets and, yes, a half-eaten McDonald’s cheeseburger.
My car is many things dirty. It’s a moveable feast (A Clean, Well-Lighted Car), a stink bomb (When You Know It’s Time to Wash the Car) and just plain filthy (My Car’s So Dirty That…). [click to continue reading…]
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by Charles Newbery
Posted in: Car
"It was you!"; "No it wasn't!"
I’M THE YOUNGEST of five in my family. The girls are older and us three boys are each about 14 months apart. Bim, bam, boom. And that’s the way it was much of the time with us. Not fist fights, but frequent squabbles and tussles. Especially in the car. If Dad took a sharp corner in our VW Squareback, we’d scrunch whoever was on the side the car leaned. Then shift to the other side with the next turn. Oh what fun! Of course, as the runt I’d get picked on and Dad would hear my hollers and peer in the rearview mirror and scold my older brothers for bothering me. I liked that bit. A lot. So much so that I would put myself in situations to get a pounding so they’d get told off. “And don’t do it again, humph!” I’d say, triumphantly. My brothers would protest but my Dad would shush them up and continue driving through the chaotic traffic of Los Angeles, where we lived. Then came my mishap. I pulled my trick to get my brothers in trouble by kicking one and hitting the other. And Dad saw the whole thing in the rearview mirror. Busted!
My Dad has told the story of my downfall countless times, branding me as the aggravator. It’s no doubt that my brothers are still smiling that at long last justice was served for the pipsqueak. [click to continue reading…]
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