Even the cops aren't immune to her charms
My fourth of July weekend was like a million others this year; Bobbin and I watched a local parade, we went to the big annual celebration in the park, ate a lot of hot dogs and drank a lot of lemonade, stayed up late and watched fireworks, etc. etc. But there were a couple of small anomolies where the Smart was concerned
First I was kicking myself as I watched the parade - there was a section (as there always is) of the parade dedicated to the big-engine, midlife-crisis, fuel-inefficient sports cars, and I TOTALLY should have anticipated and figured out where the parade route started so that I could have tootled along behind them in my little Smart. I'm pretty sure I would have received the lion's share of the applause. And I likely wouldn't have had to even put my foot on the gas - the pace was about the same or slower than the 12mph I get just by starting up the car. The thing wants to move :-).
Next year, this will be my cunning plan. I'll even buy a bag of candy for Bobbin to toss at the parade-goers from the passenger side of the car.
Later in the evening we headed over to the main festivities to meet up with Tim, who was working sound at the event, and to partake of the usual activities - Bobbin wanted to jump in the belly of the giant, air-filled alligator and eat corn on the cob and watch the kites and the boats. I was fortunate enough to have secured a "friends and family" parking pass, thanks to my darling husband :-) Otherwise I might not have ventured over.
We arrived at the park and found the production lot, and I proceeded past the gate. They told me to park anywhere; the lot wasn't even half full; so I beelined for the very end slot right next to the arched entrance way to the main festivities. Always good to be able to make a quick entrance and exit when travelling with a preschooler! Also a bonus to have an official police car nearby to ward off the really curious... or worse, on a holiday weekend - the really drunk and curious.
As I pulled into the stall, I saw two (very large) police officers approaching my car from the corner of my eye. I looked around for "reserved" or "no parking" signs and saw none, but was prepared nonetheless to prove my worthiness of parking in the production lot, and if need be to park elsewhere. I rolled down my window as Bobbin peered past me curiously.
"Excuse me, but could I ask you a few questions about my car?" one officer politely asked. I smiled and replied with a "sure, not a problem". I guess his wife has been keen on purchasing one; he's had reservations about the safety, especially freeway driving, given its size compared to the massive SUVs, monster pickup trucks, and Hummers that abound in this neck of the woods. I answered his questions, told him the mileage I was getting, why I felt safe in the car and even more, why I felt safe transporting my daughter. Let him check out the interior, and put the roof down, etc.
He was pretty satisfied but had one final request. Would it be ok if he snapped a picture of the car, with me standing next to it giving it a thumbs up so he could show his wife? what the heck - it's not often I get asked to pose for pictures :-) So somewhere out there, a police officer's wife has a picture of me and Bobbin and our little blue smart car, parked in the sunshine on 4th of July.
Bobbin seemed rather amused and fascinated by the attention the car was getting from the policemen and talked non-stop the rest of the evening about "why that policeman took Mommy's picture", and "why that policeman was axing so many questions about our car" and "why is our car so cool, Mommy?"
Because we go farther on less gas and spend less money, honey!
Later on when we were ready to leave, Bobbin and I drove back out the production lot entrance, which was half-baracaded by a steel gate. As one of the attendants moved forward to open the gate, the other said "Nah! Don't bother - she can fit through here!" pointing to the narrow opening that remained. And sure enough, she did. I smiled and waved.
I had to drive at a snail's pace until we got out of the park area as streets were crawling with pedestrians. It was still hot even in the evening sun, so the car windows were down and I had the roof open. As I passed by a gaggle of scraggly teenagers one of them pointed at the car and laughed and said "see that? Now that's just GAY. What a retard car". I said nothing, and smiled to myself, thinking of the money I've been saving in gas since we got it. I may have even edged a bit closer to the group so they could get a better look at my gay little car - and get the hell out of my way (even in the smart car, I still out-weigh and out-accelerate them :-)) . Bobbin looked at me and said "Mommy, what that man said about our car?" and I replied "He was just admiring it honey; he thought it looked like a happy car". Bobbin replied immediately with "Our car is a SMART car".
Comments
Likely, hopefully, not unlike Uncle Mike, that teenager will someday mature into a guy who realizes it's way cooler to save money than to drive around near-broke in a pimped out ride. That is why our second car is now a 4-cylinder import station wagon instead of a 6-cylinder F-150. And once Ziggy's engine dies, we're trading her in for what I hope will be a car I can plug in to my partially-powered-by-solar-panels-house at night. (We're hoping Ziggy is with us for a long time.)
Posted by Aunt Sarah on July 8, 2008 5:19 AM.Speaking of Ziggy, she would like to know if the Smart Car has a name yet?
I will never understand teenage speak. How does a car look gay? Good answer to Bobbin though. "...he thought it looked like a 'happy' car!! Hehe! I love it!
Posted by Sarah on July 8, 2008 11:25 AM.OMG - I take a short break from reading blogs and your baby went and turned into a kid! I can't believe it. Glad to hear that you all are well!
Posted by Jenny on July 9, 2008 9:59 PM.