I’m the younger sister, ergo, my first car was shared. My sister and I shared a car named Robert. We have always had a family tradition of naming our automobiles. My dad once had a black and blue truck that I named Bruise. I mean, really, it fit, you know.
I actually learned to drive in a V8 Pontiac Grand Prix and that sucker would go and I mean go fast. In fact, the first time I drove that puppy, my foot slipped off the brake and onto the accelerator and I almost hit a tree before my dad could grab the wheel and I could find the brake again. It was pretty wild.
Back to Robert, though. My sister drove him for a year and a half before I got my license and then we both shared him. He was powder blue. I took my driver’s test in him and the tester said he really should fail me because I needed a car with power steering, but as long as I promised not to try to parallel park, he’d let me have my license (it’s kind of funny now because I’m a champion parallel park-er and have actually gotten out of the passenger seat on occasion to park for the driver).
So, why was my car named Robert? I know if you know me, you have to know there was a logical reason for his name just like there was for Bruise’s name. My first car was a Mercury Bobcat. So, Robert was totally an appropriate name.
Oh, and as an aside, today is release day for my new book, Sebastian’s Salvation. http://www.bookstrand.com/sebastians-salvation -See sidebar for the cover.