Our history with vehicles

Once again, Rod is out looking for a vehicle for one of our offspring. "Another day, another car" is becoming our motto around here. Let me give you the low-down on our vehicle history...

When I first got my license at the tender age of 18 (yes, in Norway you can't drive until 18) I bought my uncle Johs' car. It was an older, beautiful looking dark blue car. (You will notice that I name vehicles by colour, not type or year, as all that counts for me is how it looks and if it works.) My uncle had spent years caring for that car as if it were his child. Cleaner than my teeth after I've been to the dentist (which isn't very often because dentists scare me, but I digress...) this baby drove like a dream. I suddenly became popular with the guys. One of those guys became my boyfriend and brought sudden death to my beloved vehicle. Soon after that he became my ex-boyfriend! I have never really recovered from that loss (the car, not the boyfriend!)

When I moved to Canada I quit driving, because I thought I'd need to take a test to get a Canadian license. (Years later I discovered I just had to trade in one for another, I guess Norwegians are known for their strict driving qualifications.) That's when I discovered bussing. I bussed everywhere. At the time it didn't bother me. However, after bussing to work each morning this past week, I have come to detest it more than ever. Too many weird odours, stains and hairy armpits on Winnipeg Transit for my liking.

Rod came riding into my life in a beat up old red wonder that was ductaped together so as not to completely collapse. (Slight exaggeration, but let's not ruin a good story with the truth.) He became my knight in shining armor and we drove around in that old thing until it finally choked on its own exhaust fumes. Rod got $50 for the remains.

When we hauled our brood & belongings to Norway, my dad sold us a purple car which did nicely for the two years we lived there. My younger sister, Trina bought it when we decided to go back to Canada. This is where the real fun visa-vi vehicles starts to unfold.

We bought a baby-blue boat of a car while in B.C. Then we moved to Regina and discovered that the Prairies has a slightly different climate than the coast. Our poor car got sick. I learned to drive automatic in that car. Did it complain as I slammed on the brakes every two minutes thinking I needed to shift gears? Noooo. Did it mind the noise of 3 chicken-pox ridden babies in the back as we raced to the doctor's? Nooooo. Did it ever refuse to move again when I happened to back into a garbage bin, parking meter, shed, garage or curb? Again, the answer is Nooooo! I loved that car, right until it died....on the highway....in the evening.....when I was alone with the kids.....on my way to a retreat.....several hours away from home. I spent the weekend grieving.

It went down-hill from there. We bought a lemon yellow (on the outside) and lime green (on the inside) old tank of a vehicle for $200. I have a great picture of the kids playing in the trunk as if it were a sandbox or something. My boys' favourite pass-time was to jump on its hood. This one quit working late one night in the middle of cow country (yes, northern Alberta) after a trip to Grande Prairie. We had taken another couple in to town to see "The Firm" (one of my all time favourite movies) and it was on the way back disaster struck. It was atleast 40 below and the warmest thing any of us wore was the cowboy hat Dale always sported. In times like these I love being a girl. Celeste and I just huddled in the back seat while our male partners headed out in the cold to figure out what the problem was. Praise God, an RCMP vehicle stopped and helped us out. Our yellow/green tank never drove again.

That's when we decided to splurge on a glorious dark-blue van. After all, we were a family of six, living in the boondocks and in need of a reliable vehicle.

I will never forget the sight of my father in a suit, on his back under that van, trying to tie up its underbelly securely enough to get us home from the airport in one piece. He was not impressed with our new choice of transportation.

That van lasted until we were ready to start our vacation. One peaceful Sunday morning in Regina, an idiot decided to drive drunk in a vehicle without brakes. He interrupted our quiet drive to church by running a red light and hitting our van three ways before coming to a stop an inch from a KFC window. I remember seeing his fast approach and yelling "I'm going to die!" Thankfully, I didn't, but we never made it to the family reunion. Our van was totalled and our family in shock. I threw up at church that morning. Some friends lent us a vehicle to drive home to Flin Flon.

The next van was grey. It went up in flames in the middle of the night while we were at a Pastor's retreat. Say what??? Yepp, this is the total truth. We woke up from the front desk phoning us to say our van was in flames on the parking lot. Nothing looks as spectacular as a van burning to a crisp at 3 am. We still don't quite understand how that happened, but again we were thankful for the timing; at least we weren't in it on our way home or something. We caught a ride back to Flin Flon with friends.

Rod had just bought our next van (silver) when I sat parked at Natalie's school. I was in my pj's and totally unprepared for what happened next. A woman in a much nicer vehicle lost control and smashed into me. Nicer vehicle clearly does not equal better driver. I couldn't open my door to get out, but this one was at least repairable.

However, our first shopping trip at Polo Park in Winnipeg and that van was toast too. Our friendly "Welcome to Winnipeg" is familiar to many, as it is not unique. Our van was stolen, used as a joy-ride/stolen goods getaway-car, and left to rot on the side of the highway just out of town. Another write-off. Sigh!

Another van (the colour is a blur...it came and left so fast) was totalled by our son (I won't name names, but anyone who knows us will be able to guess) who ended up in a ditch while changing radio stations on Ravelstone. Then, David's first vehicle was stolen from our driveway and abused to the point of being written off. Daniel's first vehicle got hit by a nervous teenager driving her parent's car, and (you guessed it...) written off. The green van we bought after the ditch incident, lasted a loooong time, at least a couple of years. We sold it to Daniel when we took over David/Christina's burgundy car because neither of them could afford the payments.

David was driving Daniel's van a couple of weeks ago when a semi truck decided to slam into him as he sat at a red light on Nairn. The truck driver exclaimed "I thought you were going to blow that red, man! Us trucks need more time to stop you know!" Idiot.

So, here we are as usual, looking for another vehicle. Rod and Daniel just returned; it looks like a go. This car is a white two-door, perfect for Daniel. We'll see how long it lasts. Sadly, David has to pay a $200 deductible thanks to no-fault insurance. Yeay!

Meanwhile, I'll keep driving our burgundy car. Right now it makes a banging noise every time I hit the brakes. The mud flap has disappeared and every so often the whole inside thingamadoogie falls down, dragging along side the right front tire. I just pull over and tuck it back in. Thanks to a few garbage bins, sidewalks, parking barriers and meters both the front and back bender have "a few marks". But for now it'll do. Rod's about to take it out for a spin. Did I mentioned he is a mechanic? Stay tuned...