On January 31, my husband and I bought a new car. Our old Highlander, which was wonderful, was 20 years old and had reached a point where every time I told it in for service they found something critical that cost a couple thou to fix. So we figured, with tariffs looming etc. it was now or never. The new car is a Subaru with many bells and whistles. It’s great. Therefore, when somebody backed into it in a grocery store parking lot on April 8, I was crushed – as was the right front fender, headlight, and part of the bumper of the new car. It was the other guy’s fault, so his insurance is paying for the reconstruction with factory parts, huzzah! It’s in the shop now (May 3). It didn’t look too bad and was perfectly drivable, but when we took it in for the estimate, the mechanic told us it would take at least four thousand dollars worth of parts and labor to fix. All those camera and radar bells and whistles in the front ain’t cheap to replace and calibrate. Don said to the mechanic, “Geeze, cars are a lot more fragile than they used to be.”
I was immediately reminded of the 1962 road trip my family made in our brand new boat of a car from Tulsa, Oklahoma, to Miami, Florida, to visit my aunt. My parents smoked in the car, you’d better believe it. They smoked everywhere. We made the trip to Miami enveloped in a miasma of second-hand carcinogens.
My two-year-old sister spent most of the trip lying on the shelf between the back seat and the rear window, watching the scenery go by. My parents thought that was dandy, since it kept her quiet and amused. The rest of the time she rode on my mother’s lap or played around on the floor of the back seat. There were six of us in the car: My parents, three kids, and my grandmother. Nobody wore a seat belt. There were no seat belts in cars at the time, unless you were an Indy driver. And forget about child restraint seats.
Of course the car was built of industrial-strength steel and probably could have survived being stepped on by Godzilla. There is a scene in the movie “The Aviator” in which Howard Hughes’s sedan is broadsided by another car driven by his teenage paramour, Faith Domergue. Then she backs up and rams him again, several times. His car isn’t even scratched. Up until the 1970s cars were tougher, even if they did only get 7 miles to a gallon of gas and leave a yellow haze in the air wherever they went.
Then came the oil embargo and the rush to make cars lighter and more fuel efficient. My first car was a 1972 Ford Pinto, with its gas tank in the rear, just waiting to explode into flames the first time somebody rear-ended me. It’s a wonder I’m still alive. I guess I shouldn’t complain about all those expensive safety features.
Don’t miss my Tell Me Your Story guest on this site starting May 20. I am so lucky to host the Canadian author of the wonderful Inspector Green and The Amanda Doucette mysteries. One of my favorites.
And last but not least, if you are interested in writing a mystery novel, I’ll be presenting an online workshop on how to do just that for the Arizona Authors’ Association on May 10. If you’re a writer but not a member, you can still attend. Here’s the blurb that tell you how:
This workshop is back by popular demand. Donis Casey is the author of ten award-winning Alafair Tucker Mysteries featuring the sleuthing mother of ten children, set in Oklahoma during the booming 1910s, as well as another mystery series relating the adventures of 1920s film star Bianca Dangereuse. Donis is a former teacher, academic librarian, and entrepreneur who lives in Tempe, AZ. Read the first chapter of each of her books at her website, www.doniscasey.com
If you have any questions, please contact us at arizonaauthorsassociation@gmail.com. We’ll be happy to provide you with more details. I hope to see you there!
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