The Crunchy Mobile

My real live Mom car has been sick and as a result I have been driving the "crunchy mobile".  Her crunchiness has almost 160,000 miles on it, is dented on all sides and is a dark blue Subaru wagon, the official car of all things Vermont.  Son #2, PJ, has made this car as his own, in his own special way.   It smells funny which may be exacerbated by the fact that we can't open the back tailgate and clear out the detritus from PJ's last move.  From what we can see, there are musical accessories, old papers, shoes and some clothing.  There may even be food, but no one wants to venture back there to really figure it out.

The dashboard is adorned with a chubby, maroon smiling Buddha who grins happily at me through red lights, traffic jams and waits at the train station.  Naturally, it brings to mind the famous Imus jingle of my youth.

I don't care if it rains or freezes,
'long as I got my plastic Jesus
hanging on the dashboard of my car.
I can go five hundred miles an hour,
'long as I got the Almighty Power,
hanging on the dashboard of my car.

Does that work for Buddha as well?

I don't understand the rather obscure bumper stickers, but I revel in their uniqueness.  No one else has a discrete Sonic Youth sticker carefully centered on their rear bumper.  Their Suburbans are covered with dune permits from Nantucket, barely decipherable oval badges from places like OBX, MTK, and ANP and banners announcing their children's sports and college preferences.  I have spent hours reading the backs of these cars, trying to figure out how many kids they really have while solving the clue to their vacation destinations.  I guarantee, there aren't too many who know Sonic Youth or the famous local politician, Elsie Flemmings, from parts unknown.

Blazoned across the back window of the Subaru is the proud sign, "College of the Atlantic".  PJ went to this lovely College on the shores of Bar Harbor, ME for one and a half years.  He claimed that there were two kinds of students, Tree Huggers and Mountain People.  Not surprisingly the Huggers tended toward crunchiness, a wegan lifestyle and love of all things natural.  The Mountain People wore flannels, heavy beards and bright orange vests for their weekend hunting expeditions.  I like driving the dichotomy.

A certain level of zen is needed to run this car.  Not having the classic automatic beep, beep button to unlock all the car doors simultaneously, the driver is required to insert the key into the lock and unlock the door, the old fashioned way.  Naturally this isn't so easy with the Subaru.  If you purposefully carry your bulging CVS bags to the car, jam in the key and make an abrupt counter-clockwise turn, the lock won't budge.  You get nothing, nadda.  At first when this happened, I would race around to the front passenger door, swear,  and abruptly open that door with a deft flick of the key and a stressed grunt at the inconvenience.

The wisdom of my son, Charlie, taught me another way to handle the situation.  If you approach the driver's side door with a sense of calm and zen, insert the key slowly and gently turn the key counterclockwise, the lock will disengage and the door will open.  You must be in a place of peace, to enter the Subaru.

Conversely, if the stick shift is not perfectly centered over the parking "P", the car doesn't start, resulting in panicky moments which can only be resolved by a deep breath and a jab to the shift which miraculously rights the wrong and starts the car.

The Subaru has been a new identity for me.  I like the quirkiness, the individuality and the crunchiness.  The car has character and staying power.