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My first car was a Ford Pinto. In fact, it was my step-dad Doug’s Ford Pinto. When I learned how to drive (he taught me. My mom didn’t have the patience) he gave me his Pinto, which was really nice of him. It was a super dorky car to drive at the time. You may not even know what a Ford Pinto is because they stopped making them in 1980 (well before I got my driver’s licence)*.
So anyway, when I was a teen I really didn’t care or understand a thing about cars (I still don’t but am slightly more responsible). And my Pinto had problems with leaking oil. So every now and then I needed to buy oil and put it in the car to keep it running.
Eventually I got very lazy about this chore. So, yeah, you can imagine what might have happened. The engine completely died. Out in Airway Heights, WA in the middle of the night. If you know anything about Eastern Washington you know that Airway Heights is in the middle of nowhere.
So that was fun. I guess. Honestly, I can’t really remember what happened when it died. I think I called my younger brother at a gas station and he came to pick me up. So it all worked out fine and wasn’t that horrible at all. Things happen, we deal with them and move on.
But the fun thing about this Plinky prompt is that it got me thinking about that Ford Pinto I used to drive, looking at pictures of them makes me giggle a little bit. It also makes me wish my hand-me-down car was something way cooler like a Dodge Dart.
*Fun Fact: According to Wikipedia, Forbes added it to its list of “Worst Cars of All Time.”
Image via Wikipedia
When I was in 3rd grade, one afternoon on the playground, the girls in my class formed the, “I hate Carol club.” I’m not sure why. Carol was a friend of ours. We all hung out with her regularly. I think there might have been a fight between Carol and another girl and the other girl decided to form this club behind Carol’s back. Somehow, like sheep, we were convinced that we needed to form this group because Carol was a horrible person and needed to be shunned.
Or maybe we were afaid of being shunned ourselves and went along with it.
Regardless, I remember thinking the whole thing was dumb. I knew that Carol felt bad, playing on the playground by herself. I was sure that she could see the sneers of her female classmates and I’m sure it made her sad.
I had an idea. I told the other girls that I would be a spy for them. This way I could still be friends with Carol and also be friends with the “I hate Carol club” girls.
I thought this was such a great idea at the time. But in retrospect I wish I would have had the guts to tell these girls how mean they were being.
It’s crazy, the things kids will do to fit in.
In the end, Carol and this other girl made up and all was right with our group again. And if I recall correctly, this all took place during the after-lunch recess one day.
This memory popped into my head today after reading about some online drama. Yeah. This shit still happens, even when we are adults.
Image via Wikipedia
I was working on Saturday at the Reference desk on an obituary search for somebody. At SPL we do this for people doing Geneology research, search the Spokesman Review for obits, since we have a run of it since forever-ago.
I was kind of enjoying it because I was searching the paper from 1980..It was kind of fun to read about what was going on at that time.
But I came across something very interesting. There was and article in there that profiled some people in government. I didn’t catch exactly why they were being profiled..it could have been that there was speculation that they would be running mates with Reagan..Well, one of these little profiles was of Donald Rumsfeld. There was a short bio of him and then a quote:
“From a personal standpoint, I don’t really plan ahead very well. I end up seeming to spend an awful lot of time doing what I’m doing because I’ve been in some awfully tough jobs.” (my emphasis)
I kid you not.
I couldn’t believe it when I read it. I read it and thought, “no shit.”
I didn’t write down the exact date, regretably. I will get that for you on Thursday.