blog entry

Meet Vanna Gray

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my car. Actually it’s a van. A big hunk of gray steel and the only thing my mother would let me drive to and from high school because she was sure that driving such a mass of metal would keep me as protected as anything in my first shaky teen driving years.

At first I was a tiny bit resentful that I had to drive a mom mobile everywhere my senior year of high school. Sure, it had automatic sliding doors and could seat seven of my friends (if my mom ever allowed it), but was a sort of miserable shade of metallic green gray and it accelerated like I imagine a very pregnant woman might at a Babies R Us sale—with purpose, but lacking in speedy locomotion.

I’ve never been one to care for a flashy car and never expected to own anything nice at 17. But a van? In high school? Really? Wasn’t it about twenty years too early for that? OK, it was kind of funny in an embarrassing sort of way, but I still wanted to weigh my options.

So, I tried bartering. “Can’t I trade it for dad’s car?” He drove (and still drives) a reasonable Honda. It’s old. It shakes like a go cart and the steering wheel vibrates at long stop lights, but I felt like it was an appropriately crummy used car for my caliber of driving skills.

Mom rejected the offer. No side air bags.

Next, I petitioned. “How about painting it bright yellow!?” I’ve always wanted a yellow car. Looking back, I think this probably would have won me the nickname “Little Miss Sunshine.” I wouldn’t have objected.

Again I was turned down on “unreasonable grounds.”

As a last resort, I pleaded for decking out the inside with seat covers? Bumper stickers? Fuzzy dice?

Happily, I was granted these small concessions, and so, in the end, I had a big gray van, but with a touch of personality.

Since my senior year of high school, and after colorguard practices, late morning dashes to school, and two big moves in and out of college (go Heels!) later, I’ve come to love my van. She has housed enough Costco groceries to feed a family of four plus dog. She has bulged with loud groups of baseball players on the way to my brother’s games. She has traveled the length of North Carolina from the coast to the mountains, and kept us safely contained and content with a roomy interior.

Like I said, I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. (In the spirit of many drivers that have come before me, I also gendered (that’s probably not a word) and named my van. She is Vanna Gray- inspired by the game show personality, but with (much) less glitz and glam).

My attachment to Vanna is a newfound one. The other day, I was listening to the radio loudly and joining in with the programming. I think I was either talking out loud to NPR, or singing obnoxiously to an overplayed pop song…and I thought—“Wow—I’m really glad no one can see me right now.” Vanna Gray is probably the only lady that would put up with my conversations and duets with the radio. She is comforting and protective and strong. And so far (knock on wood) I am one of the few accident-free teenagers I have ever met.

We don’t often appreciate the inanimate objects around us that support our daily lives, but really, it would be hard to function without them. I would go hungry without my fridge that hums along all day or my alarm clock that (god bless it) wakes me up like a champion with tireless persistence after many, many, many hits of the snooze button. (My roommate, Nikki, can certainly vouch for me).

I dedicate this (kinda sarcastic) blog to my van. In all seriousness, I’m not saying we should go around counting our blessings for the toaster oven (the best thing since sliced bread—ha!), but take a minute to think about how much we depend on machines and technology and other electric and wireless gadgets every day.

It’s amazing, and I can’t wait to see what they dream up to invent tomorrow.