Thursday, February 17, 2011

Flashback Friday



"An Ode to the Pimpala"


I would like to introduce you to my husbands first car, lovingly known as the "Pimpala." Oh yes. Here it is in all it's ghetto glory.

So, I haven't told the story on this blog yet, but me and my husband knew each other in high school. We became good friends in high school but didn't date until college. In high school, James drove a 79' impala. He bought it for like $100, fixed it up, and had it painted bright orange crush. Outfitted with furry seat covers and some dice, the transformation was complete.

If you ever wanted to know if James was anywhere in our not so very big city, you would just look for his car. It was easy to spot. Scan an entire parking lot of cars and you could pick it out of the crowd right away.

There are many things about this car that were hilarious, but the most hilarious part was this:

Pimpala = ghetto
James= NOT ghetto. Or "pimp-like" by any stretch of the imagination.

I mean, the car portrays I certain kind of image....a gangsta rap video kind of image. James never really fit the image of the car. You would look at the car and expect to see someone tough, NOT white, and perhaps sporting some kind of grill sitting in the driver's seat. Instead, you would see James, very white, lanky, a little goofy, wearing Dickies, and a tight t-shirt. Plus, instead of hearing gangsta rap out of the speakers you would most likely hear screaming hardcore/metal music. oh geez.

James, how I love him. The inconsistency of image of the car vs. my husband portrays something I love very much about my husband. One of the things I most love about my husband (and one of the reasons I fell in love with him) is his confidence and comfort in who he is. He doesn't care if he's being cool, or if you think he's cool, or if anyone thinks he's cool. In a world that is all consumed with image and what other people think, James is miraculously and refreshingly unaffected by the opinions of others. He owns his uniqueness and individuality and he wants other people to own it too. This in turn (in my eyes at least), makes him VERY cool. You are valuable because you are YOU. That's the gift he gives to other people. It's a gift he's given to me.

Oh, the "Pimpala". There are so many happy memories that go along with that huge, orange, gas guzzling car. He had that car in high school, when we were just friends and James had a not-so-hidden crush on me. He took it to college with him, where we started dating (it was perfect for cuddling during drive-in movies.) He even still had it when we got married. We hung out in that car with friends, took trips in it, went on dates with it. Sat on the hood of it, sharing secrets. One night driving back to school through the country, after a weekend of visiting our families in our hometown, the sky was clear and the stars shone bright and perfect. We pulled over that orange car laid in a field and tried to absorb the beauty and the glory of the sky above us. So many memories.


And yet another memory:
Here I am (looking like a 13 year old) during college (senior year I think?) perched atop the Pimpala, sitting by my bestie, and eating cook-out food in a parking lot with a bunch of friends.

A little while after we got married, we moved away from our beloved college town. James sold the car to someone who fit the car's image and who would surely trick it out even more. The car just wasn't practical for a newly married couple about to move, about to start new jobs, on the verge of starting a family. The Pimpala was becoming quite the hassel to drive and she just ate up SO much gas (this wasn't the 90's anymore.) By the time James got rid of that car, we were glad to be rid of her. Good riddance.
Yet in our recollections, selling that car was bittersweet. Who knew that by selling that car, an era was ending? One chapter being closed and another being opened?

Sometimes I find myself missing that silly car..... at drive-in movies, or certain humid summer nights that remind me of life before responsibility and young love, or when I see my husband drive away to work in a cookie-cutter silver Nissan that speaks nothing of his "not-care" individuality, but speaks volumes more about adult-hood.

And when we visit our college town I always find myself hoping for just a glimpse of that orange car. A glimpse of our past.




Happy Friday!



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4 comments:

  1. Ahhh the Pimpala. I miss that ride. It was such an excellent ride to prom. That was like the most spacious front bench seat ever (sidenote: why don't they still make front seats benches?? That was a great idea). Love that pic of us. We look very tan and skinny. And like we're eating good food and can't even be bothered to pose like MK&A.

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  2. What an amazing wonderful orange car!

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  3. This is a cute and lovely post. :)

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