The little car that couldn't and how I came to be with Ted

I once had a car I named “Betsy” that I didn’t like very much. But my parents gave it to me, and I just couldn’t  say “No thanks” to a new car, let alone a canary yellow Chevy Chevette , that screamed “Look out! I cannot accelerate to the appropriate speed to merge onto highway traffic!” It was the same color as a Warning Sign come to think of it.

Betsy wasn’t exactly new. My Mother had driven her badly for years. Cars have a way of taking on the personality of their owners, just like dogs. This one had erratic behavior, was prone to mood swings, and had periodic hot flashes.  Such a temperament isn’t exactly likable, but Betsy did get me from Point A to Point B well enough, albeit at her own pace.

Betsy and I broke up after she overheated and stalled in the middle of an intersection, almost had me killed, but for her color. Thank God for that after all. As a result, I took up with Ted, a black Tempo birthed from Ford, and we had good times, but less exercise. I no longer rocked back in forth in the driver’s seat to help Betsy gain momentum going up a hill, merging onto a highway, or accelerating from a standstill. She may have been a sluggish car, but I had toned abdominal muscles.

If you ever get behind a car, that isn’t quite fast enough for your own, remember Betsy, and don’t blame the driver. That person rocking back in forth in the driver’s seat probably has the accelerator pedal floored, mouthing “Come on. Come on.” Have mercy.

This is a true story.  I had to tell it. And for you Chevy Chevette fans (It's about time ; )

Picture is from GM Heritage.