New Wheels

Andrew and Peter have a new set of wheels. Their car was totaled a few weeks back, and we- I mean Fred has been looking at cars to replace theirs. We bought the totaled car back from the insurance company as it was still drive-able around town with some work, but Fred had to jimmy-rig so much of it together, that it looks like it has scars.  And then he began to shop for cars.

Sigh.

If you know Fred, you know that he loves me only slightly more than cars. I am infinitely flattered by this, as I am almost certain  that our kids do not suffer the same good fortune. Cars are Fred's love, passion, and weakness. In case you think I jest- Joseph, who was born 11 years ago while we lived in Vermont, is my living proof. On the day I brought him home from the hospital, Fred was so fixated on a new truck he simply had to purchase, that he made us stop and pick it up from the dealer and I wound up having to drive myself the rest of the way home from the hospital with my fifth son and the rest of the boys. When we got back to our home, his friends met us to see Fred's new  son truck.

After too many hours of making phone calls and deliberating over what was the best car for the boys to buy, Fred did the only reasonable thing he could do. He called his brother Dave and asked to buy one of his cars off of him. You see he had heard from his folks that Dave was selling his Fusion. And of course the whole 'car thing' runs in Fred's family. (Fred's dad being only slightly less entranced than Fred.) And  Dave takes good care of his cars. I mean like really good care of his cars. Cars are family, and are treated gently, and tenderly, and sweetly. So in Fred's mind there is no better or more trustworthy person on the planet to buy a car from than his brother. 

Never mind my protest that the car was a standard and the boys and I do not know how to drive a standard. "BAH! They'll learn!"  I figured if I couldn't win the ride home from the hospital argument, this one was futile to even begin, so the deal was made. The boys weren't bothered by this at all, mind you. Because, as I've said before- the car thing runs in the family ( on Fred's side). 

We've spent the last week giving lessons on driving a standard and nursing our whip-lash. Today the boys took it out on their own. I cannot begin to tell you the look on their faces as they drove off. Beyond the shadow of a doubt they got the bug. Fred has named the car for them- get this- The Black Pearl.He insists its a coincidence and should bear no resemblance in my mind to the Pirates  of the Caribbean  ship of the same name.   I suppose that since The  White Whale is what we call the 15 passenger van I drive, and the broken car down car is affectionately named Robbie the Red Car, and Fred's truck is the Blue Tiger;  The Black Pearl kind works- in a sinister sort of way. 

Drive safely y'all.  I've given fair warning.