Rosie and I have a bit of history. She had become sadly, quite shabby. Hail damage previously, or just being out of a garage haven't helped. I planned a new image for her, a spruce up to stop the rust getting in.
I put forward a design, a Spray Artist interpreted it. She is a bit of a talking point now with street cred. Most of the design I like, however, I am not a teenage male.
I am maybe going to have a go myself. Something a little more subtle and stylish is what I had in mind. So I need to re-familiarise myself with airbrushing, there is the opportunity to borrow the equipment. 37 yrs ago was the last time, as a Graphic Design school student.
Here is part of her story. Pictures to come.
‘Rosie’ With The Sunburnt Nose
You
shouldn’t name cars. Nor for that
matter, farmstock that become pets e.g. pigs, chooks, etc.
The
writing’s on the wall, cars get old.
I get called
‘Packhorse’ at our house, but my cars are true Workhorses. We live in a
wonderful, naturally diverse valley, an old block sold to us with no
off-street parking, many moons ago.
So my cars
sit up the top, waiting faithfully to perform their many errands. I haul goods
up and down the mountainside, hence my monicker ‘Packhorse’ or ‘Pack’ . Baby
twins, one under each arm like wiggley sacks of potatoes, shopping, trash,
Council Cleanup, and gardening supplies.
I’ve had
cars with nicknames before – Old Grey
elephant (Ford sedan), Big Red Chilli Pepper (Mitsubishi stationwagon), and now
Rose-Anna (cue several bars of Rosanna by Toto).
Some cars
are just cars, but Rosie is mine, she was chosen for me, style, colour, roof
racks and towbar for bike racks.
She was four
years young when handed over, ex lease as my hubbies former work vehicle.
Professional blokes usually get sleek, luxury models with sunroofs, leather
seats, bun warmers and the like.
I just need
a car, with a big cargo. One that just go, go, goes.
No garage
for her, she endures the elements, has been hail damaged, egged on Halloween,
bird spotted.
Luckily,
unlike one of her predecessors, not broken into, hotwired and used in an
attempted armed robbery, baby car seat and all. Dirty criminals, with guns, in
my car!
We share a
history, Rosie and me. Thrashed by all the Mum Taxiing, and 240 hours of
teaching two kids to drive, she still looks good, side on. Unfortunately, the
lacquer on her maroon bonnet has all but peeled away, leaving her looking
forlorn.
Costly. Too
much for replacement new, wrecker part, or respray. I’ve even contemplated a
custom graffiti job? Hmm.
Like a line
from Dr Seuss, it was the places we’d see, oh, the adventures we’d go. School
friends, parks, drop offs to camps, dirt roads, up the coast to visit Nanna.
Now I’ve
been offered the next sleek new model, ex work car, with bun warmers, leather
seats and sun roof.
I don’t want
it. I just want Rosie and I to drive off into the Sunset, for years and years.
So raise a
bottle of GTX oil to all the old girls,
may they run forever.
