Barbie Car

I have a car angel. I do. Really.

Every car I have ever had has been given to me as a gift. Or bought for $1. 

My first car was a white 1975 Ford Courier pick up truck with a camper top. 

She. Was. Awesome. 

I could start her up with a screwdriver. For real. I kept a small one in the glove compartment just in case I needed it. She had no power steering and it took every ounce of muscle to turn the wheel, but man, was she an amazing machine. 

I called her ‘Boo!’ 

My second car was a white Mazda 626. 

She was pretty sweet. 

I went from a dinosaur to breathing on the gas pedal and it flying! I had a daisy sticker in the lower center of the back windshield and a stereo that I bought and had installed at Radio Shack for $200. 

I called her ‘Little Boo.’ 

It seemed fitting. 

She was a good car too. 

Until the radiator exploded in a parking deck. That wasn’t pretty.

The car I drive now is a white Honda CRV. She is pretty spectacular. The previous owners had her custom painted to match an RV that they towed her behind. She has a swoosh of gold and dark blue down the sides. 

When I first got her I thought to myself, “Self. You HAVE to get her re-painted!” 

Then, she began to grow on me. 

She’s spunky. And unique. And individual. Kind of like me! 

Plus, everywhere I went people would text me things like, “HEY!!! You’re in Kohl’s right now! I saw your car!!” So… over time that became kind of cool! Although, sometimes I’ll admit, a little creepy. 

My hometown, Pensacola, Fl., had a re-branding campaign many years back. As a part of the brand they produced round magnets with different adjectives that are supposed to describe the city, i.e. Unique, Beautiful, Creative, Historic, Glorious, etc… The magnets were all brightly colored and had one giant word in the center and Pensacola, Fl. written small underneath. I had the pink one that said 'Beautiful' on my gas tank door.

One day, as a group of us were leaving church, my friend Chris looked into the parking lot and saw my car. His exact words were, “You know, with that crazy swoosh and the pink magnet your car looks like the Barbie Car! It even has it’s own Mattel sticker!” It stuck. (Pun intended.) Everyone calls it my Barbie car now. It is the cutest thing when your three year old non-blood nephew walks by it and says, “Da’s Fraffree’s Bawbie Car!!!”

I lost the pink magnet a few years back in a car wash, 

but the name has never been lost.

In three weeks I will pass on the Barbie Car that I have driven since 2006. I have been gifted yet another car, a Toyota Avalon. I’ve gone from truck to sedan, and now from mid-size SUV to sedan again. As thrilled as I am to have another car that I can breathe on the gas pedal and fly, and begin fresh with low mileage and minimal work to be done, the thought of letting go of the Barbie Car is like the end of an era for me. Honestly, I’m a bit sad about it. I won’t miss how none of the floor mats stay in place anymore, or how the AC knocks, or how her sun roof leaks on occasion in intense rainfall, but I will miss the way she smells like sweet cinnamon pumpkin, and the way she sits higher off the ground and really hugs the road, or how the dashboard is full of Squinkies handpicked just for her from my nephew Benjamin. 

What I didn't tell you was that it’s not completely the end of the Barbie Car and me. 

I’m passing her on to someone very special… 

someone that is going to rock the Barbie Car the way she’s meant to be… 

someone who has no idea how much their “cool factor” is about to get upped… 

(Ok, let’s be realistic)… 

someone who may possibly be a tiny bit embarrassed to drive her, and yet is man enough to work it without a care in the world… 

my dad. 

The thought. Cracks. Me. Up!!

I salute you, Barbie Car! Thank you for the grand adventures! See you in the 850!