These are the cars of my life

the car. It didn't cause any damage, but each time you put it in reverse there would be the opening chords of something that resembled "Pop Goes the Weasel."

not under any circumstances use Brillo pads on car paint.

imitating the wolf whistle.

Then there was Lady of the Night and no, not the "stands-onthe-comer-paid-by-the-hour-determining-on-the-uh-uh- factor" kind of gal, but a different one. She was mainly used by my Dad, who is a musician and would work at night. She was green so she blended into the dark nicelyget it?

The Millenium Parakeet, an obnoxious orange-colored thing that I don't know anything else about, was next. There really aren't any of those good ol' time stories about it and I've given up SHANNA FANELLI pondering why it was named after a bird that has a talent for Did you ever notice that no matter how hard you search for the right word, it never comes out until after the moment has passed? I hate that. It's like when you dream about what you think tomorrow is going to be like when you can't get to sleep. You make up a really great day. Maybe you're even one of those people who likes to plan out their outfits only to wake up and find out that the weather blows and so does reality. That can be disappointing.

But then again, that's life. As the saying goes, "poopie happens" (that's the G-rated, paperfriendly version). You deal with things and move on, unless something happens that causes a cataclysm in your personal universe.

Take my first car for example. Now I'm not one of those people who pants over mufflers or has compulsions to lift up the hoods of cars and run my eyeballs over every inch of an engine, but there is something touching about that first vehicle. A black 1986 Buick Regal that flew down the highway with just a kiss of the toes to the pedal.

When the Lady turned into the Hag, we impersonated the rich and famous and found a younger version. Actually, it was a creamcolored Oldsmobile Regal that was dubbed Lil' Queenie due to the fact that we thought her interior was so plush (Hey, when you're eleven and the backseat has flippy ashtrays in the seats, that's lux).

The birth of the Nintendo System influenced the world and my family was no exception. Our new maroon (well, new for us), Buick was christened Koopa Troopa, after those bad turtles with wings in Super Mario Brothers. It sounded cooler than Goomba.

Our biggest car, The Boat, was, well, huge, and red. My Dad taught me how to drive in it. When I went for my test, the little guys in the grey hats had to move the cones so I would be able to parallel park. Needless to say, the Boat didn't really fly to well with us woman folk. My dad loved it, but hey, he was outvoted three to one. Nowadays, my Mom and Dad have a cute, little Buick named Rhiannon.

And then there was ah, my car Tori, a.k.a. the "Grungebuggy." I lived in that car. Despite the reprimands over my untidy interior, I knew where every piece of paper was that littered the seats.

Unfortunately, Tori died. Literally, on the Blue Route around llp.m. The next day, she was gone, towed away and out of my life forever.

Guess what that meant?

Her name is Druscilla Rose. She's a red 1996 Corsica and she was owned by a little old lady who never drove her. I love this car and so do the birds; I'm constantly Windexing the windshield.

So now you know a little about my past. This does not make us friends and if you like life, you won't ask me for a ride as I have a tendency to drive creatively and can guarantee you that getting lost is a definite.

But if you like, I'll wash your car for five bucks and give it a name if you want.

I named her Tori. I never thought it was strange to name my car. All the cars that I've ever come in contact with over my history of family car ownership have had names. Melvin was the first

Following in the tire tracks was a black Bonneville we recognized as Tapau. That car, named in honor of Spock's mom on Star Trek, got washed a lot by us neighborhood kids who were trying to think of honest way to get car. I don't remember much about\ our parents to give us money. that one except that one of my I Note for any entrepreneurs: do baby toys got stuck somewhere in \

OOPS!

-We called Lori Gibbons "Lisa" in a story last week about tennis.