|
|
by Janice MacDonald
|
Q: "What would you have if everyone
in the country drove a red car?"
A: "A red carnation."
|
I drive a shiny red car.
According to cereal box psychology, this likely says a lot about my
character, my ethics and morals, my aspirations, and my driving record. There are two kinds of
people in this world; those who pigeon-hole people through inconsequential external factors,
and those who read about them. I've read that people who drive red cars are flamboyant,
take-charge sorts; that blue car drivers are less stressed in life; green car drivers tend
to be more in harmony with the world around them; black cars indicate daredevil tendencies;
white cars are creative spirits; and yellow car drivers are for hire.
It's worth thinking about, though, since this is the very first car for which I've ever had
the luxury of choosing the color. And it was a major concern. The only comparable choice
I've ever made like it was choosing a winter coat, about fourteen years ago. That too was
a major purchase that I'd be "wearing" for quite awhile. Yikes. Now that I think about it,
that choice was for red as well.
So maybe I am a bit flamboyant at heart. I do know that friends and tactful people have said
I have "presence," while other folks have labelled me intimidating at times. I didn't' choose
the color of my car to be splashy, though. In fact, that was the one factor that made me ponder
the choice (for about fifteen seconds). A friend of mine had told me that the police stop people
in red cars more often than any other color. This gave me pause till I remembered my pristine
driving record.
In fact, all my records are pristine. I was one of those clear-skinned, goody-goody honors students
in high school. I pay my bills on time, and make sure my children brush after every meal. I sit
on committees, I do volunteer work, I weed my dandelions so they don't infiltrate the neighbor's
lawn. Heck, I floss. What on earth am I doing driving a red car? It's just a color, I remind
myself. Just like the interior being a functional grey, inside I'm the same old me. Or am I?
What I do know is that I feel different driving my shiny red car than I did in my old ice blue
Omni. My Omni was a sedate little dependable vehicle, and I putzed along in it quite sedately.
Granted, it bore some odd bumper stickers, but that was more to be able to find it in a parking
lot filled with other ice blue Omnis than to cause a stir on the road.
Now, although my little red Neon is quickly becoming as ubiquitous in the parking lot as my Omni
had been, I feel as if I am "on " whenever I am on the road. My elbow feels a little bit jauntier
on the frame as the music I listen to blasts out the open window. Me, who used to mutter about
"sound Nazis" as cars emitting thrumbling bass roared past me. Of course, it's difficult to sound
really James Dean-ish while blaring folk music, but one does what one can. Rock on, Peggy Seeger.
You're cooking, Baby James.
I used to wash my car whenever it truly needed it, like if I was going to a wedding or I'd just
driven country roads through a deluge. Now, I could tell you the relative merits of every car
wash within a four mile radius of my house, and how easy it is to get home unsplashed from any
of them.
...continue
Janice MacDonald is a Canadian writer living in Edmonton,
Alberta. She looks good in red.
|
|
|
|
