Blog 6 – Thunderbirds & Red Cigar lounges

Last week we took a journey together with my dearest friend Charmaine at the helm. This week I want to make mention of my dearest friend Trish. Now I can assure you, dear reader, I am not about to do a tribute each week. Promise, it’s just that last week was relative to Charmaine, and this week, Trish reminded me of a few crazy stories that I felt were worth sharing. Thank you, Trish.

Like most young girls, my folks were pretty much embarrassing( and uncool). The other pertinent factor here was they only ever used to lift us to and from school – erm NEVER! Ok, that is a bit of an exaggeration my dad used to give us a lift to school. But I do reckon that was purely because he would be passing the school on his way to work. My mother on the other hand. Stayed home and spent her carefree morning, sitting in her sunny comfy reading room – reading all about UFO’s, guides, and mysterious gods that went clickety clackety.

My dad had a blue Ford Granada. He had I do not actually know what he had done but the blady thing would have this true ‘vroom vroom’ sound to it, at robots especially. Anyhow this car when it was running was his baby. The one morning as I casually waited for him to unlock, I drew a heart (hmm I seemed to enjoy doing this, if not on desks then on car windows) so I drew this heart from the condensation on the windows. Oh, my giddy aunt, did he go ballistic. Needless to say, that was a once-off that I never dared attempt with his beloved car again. He inevitably would begin his day in the grumpiest mood. He was as I have previously mentioned, so cantankerous, a grumpasaurus of note. And I swear the car knew this, so most mornings would play along, and not start. He would grunt “Ah! I can’t take this god damn aggravation”  in fact, this sentence was a part of his everyday life. He loved saying that and would commence his sentence with a “Do me a favour…” and you knew by those few words here comes trouble. Although I must add, he had a wonderful heart. He truly was a very kind and caring soul, who worried more than the worrier statue – you know what I am meaning hey? Or wait a minute was that a statue called The Thinker? Anyhow he worried. A trait that Karen and I as well as Chad, can you believe, so young (Chad) has inherited.

Ok, I started this a few days ago, now to cast my mind back, what was my point! I was rattling on about my dad, hmmm oh yes, so he would give us a lift to school (when Charmaine and I were working at the newspaper he used to lift us there as well). Anyhow, he would smoke up a storm, he was a chain smoker. Mind you, me, and my little moving red cigar lounge did I perhaps follow in Father Dear’s footsteps more than I thought? Me thinks so! But dad would crank up the air conditioning something truly bizarre. Within five minutes of traversing in dad’s car, you firstly could not see your hand in front of your face because of the smoke, and to make matters worse, not only could you not see your blady hand, but you also could not feel it either! It was more pleasant being on the top of Everest than in his car. (Actually, I wouldn’t know as I have never been up Everest). We would arrive at our destination with a red, runny nose, and a frozen body.

So as you have gathered dear reader dad loved cars. American ones in particular. In fact, he should have been born American. The majority of his records (LP’s aka long-playing records as in music) were all about “the red, white and blue” the American flag. I need to mention at this point he loved his music, a fantastic trait I acquired from him. He had (still has actually I now have them and treasure them) an amazing record collection. Anyhow as I was saying he also had this bizarre way when in a crowd he would start conversing with an American accent, a true twang. We would be WTF has happened to dad.

Anyhow the one-day Karen, Vaughan (my brother), and myself were gadding around the house when we heard a nonstop roar of thunder reverberating off the walls and engulfing our surrounds. We noticed no dark foreboding weather had rolled into our neighbourhood and yet still there was this boom, boom, or was it vroom vroom? Curiosity won and outside the three of us ventured. Oh, my word. There in the driveway was this gigantic really, really ugly shiny black, frik it was enormous it took up the whole driveway and standing next to this anomaly was my dad! He had bought a Thunderbird. Yes, dear reader, a blady Thunderbird. For those of you silently asking what the hell is a Thunderbird? It is a 1950’s American car. This is a blady Thunderbird.   

This photo I swear does not begin to convey just how blady big and awfully looking this car was.

It truly, to this day is the ugliest and biggest car I have ever seen. It had fire engine red leather seats and doors, there were only two, but they were heavier than a bag of cement. Which, no I have never carried but just the expression of those that I have seen carrying a bag it clearly is hellish heavy. It was also a left-hand drive.

So, my siblings and I detested this car. Dad “apparently” bought it for mom. Um,
I don’t think so but yip she did drive it. She was a very petite woman so you can imagine her behind the wheel. I recall the day the brakes failed. Actually, thinking back now it must have been so funny seeing this monstrous car roaring down the road, with three kids and a woman in it. The kids’ faces all pulled as the wind blew rampantly in their faces and the woman with her hair “tornado-ing” behind her. I am very sure no one even tried to rescue us, as they could clearly see this car was a ten-ton solid free wheelin’ thing cruising down that slight incline. Everyone knew, there would be no trying to stop it. Plus, it was heavier than a frikken German tank so when it did come to a stop the occupants would be as safe as houses. I cannot say the same for whatever it crashed into.  I just remember mom being extremely dramatic on that occasion. I don’t really recall what the outcome was but clearly, we all made it out alive. Let me tell you about the day this monster did well and truly save the day for my sister, all her friends and me and all my friends.

Oh, my word, there was one of those bolt out the blue horrendous storms: thunder, lightning, hail, purple skies, tornado-ish winds, the whole shebang. There were even those girls that were professing this was the day the world ended. So, yip you get the idea, this was one truly badass storm. Now, remember we used to walk home from school (in fact it was heaps of fun, incredibly social we would stop at Glenashley café buy 20 cents Wilson’s toffees so we would have 20 as they were one cent each and we would chew and chat all the way home). As we walked our little group would each reach their home and the rest would continue until we were all home (clearly you get the idea here and very sure you could easily work out 20c so yip 20 toffees). The storm timed itself perfectly and made its spectacular appearance as the home time bell chimed. As we were deciding on what our best plan to get home would be, I reckon we must have noticed, as this time we most definitely would not have heard the arrival of my dad’s glorious, life-saving Thunderbird. There before our eyes, was my dad and his Thunderbird. Well let me tell you, dear reader, we had never been so happy to see this car. We were soaked to the bone, and all the girls bombarded that heavy car door as a force to be reckoned with, together we yanked it open easier than it is to open a screw-top bottle of your favourite wine (Yip I do screw top, how cheap am I, but it is Woolworths) and scrambled onto the back seat. We welcomed that wide expanse of red leather seats, as we all toppled into the back. Once we had all embarked dad confidently drove us through the hectic storm delivering all our friends safely to the homes.

Whilst on the subject of lifting. I don’t know why but I recall the night my dear Trish and I decided we would hitchhike home. I cannot remember where we had been partying, and why we didn’t have safe lifts home? But I recall as clear as the dark night, we decided to hitch. My word imagines that now. Although with Uber and the likes I guess it isn’t necessary at all these days. So, there was Trish and I we were on the M4 (the freeway in Durban that leads to the Northern burbs and has the most amazing sea view on the majority of the route), and this yellow car pulls up, and inside is the sweetest young man. (Yip you have a point there, at this point we didn’t know if he was the sweetest young man or a serial killer). He gave us a lift home and as we traversed obviously, he wanted to know where we were going, etc., well it turned out dear reader, he worked for a company that Trish’s dad was the Exec Director of, and it is at this point I need to state, Trish’s mom was also extremely strict, in fact, both her parents were. She (me as well) would have been gated for the rest of our lives had both sets of parents any inkling of what we did that night. Trish had many, many months never mind weeks of sleepless nights, so, so worried that Mike would somehow slip up and tell her dad he met her and how he met her! One word here: guilt I reckon caused those sleepless, overthinking the situation nights. Anyhow after that Mike became a fairly good friend (no Trish did not pay him to be her friend) and yes, I have to admit a wonderful taxi. In fact, it’s a very small world, a very good friend of mine actually knows Mike to this day. Recently, she was at a mutual wedding, and apparently, when she mentioned me, they had a catch-up. However, to this day when I ask her what he told her she very conveniently changes the subject. Note to self: Follow up on this.

Another occasion where I dared hitchhike, as far as I remember my friend and I were coming back from Newcastle, yes that’s right. We had gone to her folks for the weekend in Newcastle. Yes, you read correctly dear friend, I did say Newcastle. What is there to do there? I hear you ask. We had the best time. We visited the country club I recall we really, had the best time. Anyhow so we were driving home, and the bonnet of her car literally blew up blocking her vision. When we had finished peeing ourselves with laughter and realized the seriousness of what had happened, we phoned for help and ended up leaving a day later. Anyhow, we ended up hitchhiking somewhere along the route of our trip. And these guys picked us up. They were in fact very unsavory and consuming plenty of Brandy n coke which Tracy had the forethought to join them. Of course, I was gobsmacked “you got to be kidding Trace, and we end up in some ditch for others to read about in the YOU magazine. After reading the said article they sure to say, ja well those girls looked for trouble and found it!” This I know dear reader because it is what I say when I read a dodgy story and yes, I do read YOU. (I know I know!!) So, there we were both gulping down sips of this out the bottle which we were sharing with these unsavory’s nogal. Yikes! Really, I cannot believe the things we did in our youth (Tut-tut!). But once again, I am still here to tell the tale, so thanks Tracy for your genius plan. The tale ended happily with both of us making it safely home although we, well me was despo for the loo eventually I recall, yip you guessed dear reader we stopped on the side of the freeway. (Shock and horror!) My word you know if my folks had known the half of it, I reckon I would still be living at home under lock and key.   

Now the next story is not as unsavory and actually is quite a neighbourly feel-good story. My beloved little red cigar lounge was part of our family for many moons. In fact, even when we first moved here (Nelspruit) I used to lift the neighbour Nikki’s kids to school. So, this little car did many school trips both in KZN and here. Anyhow, this day, Chad was in grade two at La Lucia Junior Primary. I had raced through the morning traffic (I was always running late, always) and had dropped Ryan off at Virginia, and next stop Chad. We gathered his school and swimming bags and high-tailed it into the school, for some arb reason my passenger door would not close. I don’t recall that bothering me as it would now. Nowadays you would probably come back to an empty space where the car had been. (There was a time when this little red bomber was stolen but we got her back). So, I get back to the car this morning and the parking lot is dead, dead quiet. Not a soul in sight. Bear in mind I was late. The next minute another mom’s taxi comes haring around the corner. Mom and son jump out and race into the school grounds. It was my dear, dear friend Carol. Once she returned from dropping Craig at his class, she very kindly helped me tie my car door closed so it didn’t swing out on my way to work. Thank you dearest Carol for saving me that day.         

Well, dear reader that is my tale of today. Wishing you all an awesome day/evening ahead. Stay well and safe wherever you may be in our wonderful, albeit topsy turvy world.
Thanks for your encouraging comments and kind words. I am so chuffed you all enjoying this journey as much as I am, sharing Life with Dizabeth.

Take care – Much love always