Definitely Fast, Not Necessarily Furious

              As we have previously discussed, on an average day the Light of Jesus shines from my face, y’all.  It’s true.  However, when you put me behind the wheel of a conveyance, be it automobile, moped, roller skate, bean truck, you’d be hard-pressed to believe I have ever entered a place of worship, much less have a relationship with God.  This is apparently genetic as The Dad and The Sister are aggressive drivers.  Even my sainted Mother, while never actually angry, drove with a heavy foot.  And I mean heavy; she once got a speeding ticket in Oklahoma on a highway with no posted speed limits.
                My recent trip to Red River County (TX) brought to mind an astonishing number of car-related memories with my sister considering she had her driver’s license for only the two years we lived in Paris.  In her defense, in those two years, we did commute 60 miles round trip from our home in Paris (TX) to the high school in Bogata, as my parents promised each of us that we could finish high school where we started, in direct conflict with our gypsy ways.  Let it be noted here that my sister was able to attend the same school for all four years of high school.  My brother was able to attend the same school for junior high and high school.  I, however, had to change in the middle of high school, even though I swear I’m not bitter or anything. 
                Once we had moved to Paris proper, I desperately wanted to go to Paris High; people there wore argyle and penny loafers; I had seen them at Mirabeau Square (or Malibu Square according to the Strawn Twins of Bogata proper), the local shopping center, home of Belk and JC Penney, where I was to procure my first pair of Reeboks, parachute pants and monogrammed button-downs. I was convinced there were many Blaines (from Pretty in Pink) at Paris High, knowing full well that I was more like a chubby Ducky than anyone else in that movie.  I preferred to think of myself as a male version of Molly Ringwald’s Andy, but we all know I used to suffer from delusions.
             My parents reply to my plea was, “Your sister wants to go to Rivercrest and you have to ride with her because it’s unsafe for a girl to drive that far alone.”  To Rivercrest we went, never once seeing the river or the crest for which the school was supposedly named.
              During those commutes, we had every sort of incident you could imagine while commandeering an array of used cars, which were replaced with alarming frequency.  I’m not sure if my parents accepted old cars as a form of payment for the apartments my mother managed, but we had a different car every couple of months, it seemed.  During this time, we drove a 1974 Buick Regal whose tailpipe would pop and spit flames if you punched the accelerator to pass someone, which happened every couple of miles as my sister’s goal was seemingly to be “ahead”; of everyone, I assumed. 
            This same car was what my sister was driving when we were pulled over for going 92 in a 55 MPH Zone and she cried her way out of a ticket, being told only, “Slow down, now.”  This will work only for women, dudes.  Trust me. I say that because I tried to cry my way out of a ticket once in Mississippi and the trooper accused me of being drunk and threatened me with arrest.  As it was 1989, I guess they didn’t have tasers, yet.  I’m sure he would have used his had the technology been available to him.
            Not long after that, we changed to a 1968 Oldsmobile Delta 88 with faulty brakes; a fact unknown to us at the time; at least until we tried to stop at that little store/lawn mower repair shop near Deport one morning.  When we attempted to slow down to turn, I was riding shotgun (in the front seat) while my sister drove, and my brother sat in the back seat.  
             I feel sure at least I wasn’t wearing a seat belt as, when the brakes failed, and my sister sailed through their little parking lot, skidding to a stop sideways, almost in the ditch, I sat up and found myself to be in the back seat with my brother as if we were being chauffeured to school.  I was lucky the Oldsmobile company had created a car so large you could host a Potluck Luncheon in the back seat and covered everything in thickly padded “leather”; I had no visible bruises other than to my ego as it was obvious that I was the source of the majority of the screeching sounds, not the brakes as you would guess, because my screeches didn’t stop as quickly as the cars.
             We also drove, at one point, a 1976 Caprice Classic Estate wagon, the size of which cannot be understated.  It was literally the size of a Winnebago or an 18-wheeler from JW Hunt.  You can Google it, I’ll wait.  We had no interesting adventures in this particular car, it was just embarrassing to own.  Really?  You’re expecting a mature attitude from a teenager in the 80s wearing three Swatches, parachute pants and a pair of double-tie Kaepa tennis shoes?  Ducky is dramatic, y’all.  It’s a thing.

If Starbucks is bringing out the red cups...

                In 1984, The Dad forever changed our lives when he bought a VCR from the trunk of some guy’s car in The Wal-Mart parking lot in Paris, Texas.  We began renting videos from the only video store at that time, which was the converted garage of a house coincidentally located adjacent to The Wal-Mart.  The first movie we rented was ‘Charlotte’s Web’ which we were able to enjoy after several trips to the video store to learn all about something called tracking.  One fateful day after my sister and I watched ‘Footloose’ for the sixty-fifth consecutive time, my mother allowed us to return to the video store alone.  We walked down both aisles and scoured the racks to see what exactly there was to discover and we stumbled upon a little movie called ‘Sixteen Candles’.  Thus began my love affair with Molly; as in Ringwald, not that weird drug MDMA, which I thought was a Madonna album. 

                You know I didn’t want to date her and before you go there, no, I certainly didn’t want to be her.  I just wanted to be her best friend.  I was certain if we ever met it would be kismet.  Kismet, people!  And I shouldn’t have been surprised.  I’ve always loved me a ginger.  Ron Howard, Sarah Rue, Holland Taylor, Eric Stoltz, Karen Gillan (from 'Dr. Who', not the awful 'Selfie'), Seth Green, Prince Harry, Domhnall Gleeson (but only in “About Time” and maybe “Harry Potter”).  But my all-time favorite red-head is definitely Ms. Ringwald. 

                And as Molly and I have grown up together, she has shown me many things both true and good (and sometimes sketchy) but that’s to be expected, right?  It’s only life, after all. So I shall share with you my list of the things I’ve learned as Molly Ringwald’s imaginary best friend.

1. Always choose a preppy over a hipster (‘Pretty in Pink’).  I don’t think anyone in their right mind want to end up with Jon Cryer, even those of you who keep that stupid “Two and a Half Men”   on the air.
2. You are not your circumstances (‘Pretty in Pink’).  She was poor and her Dad was drunk and looked vaguely cigarette-y but she was strong and brave and introduced me to thrift-store chic.
3. When you get a chance to live abroad, do it.  As she is fluent in French, she moved to France, married (and later divorced a French dude) and even made movies in France.  I don’t want to do that but I wouldn’t mind moving to London, where I’ve been told I am fairly conversant in their language.
4. Bad boys may seem to be exciting but it always ends poorly and usually with you losing good jewelry (‘Breakfast Club’).  Sexy delinquent is one thing; Judd Nelson looked like he needed a flea dip and a nit comb, y’all.
5. Dancing on a landing in the library will make you look amazing but is only allowed in the movies (‘Breakfast Club’).  If you try to do it in real life, you will be asked to leave said library and possibly sent to counseling…or so I’ve heard.  Never happened.
6. Never trust obnoxious rich people...or James Spader ('Pretty in Pink').  I think she may have predicted 'The Blacklist', y'all.
7. If you feel the need to write a book, write it even if it’s not very good (When it Happens to You).  I didn’t really care for it.  It’s not as enjoyable as say A Gone Pecan, by yours truly.
8. Always share your discoveries with the world.  Like Fiona Apple.  Molly mentioned Ms. Apple in an Entertainment Weekly article way back in the day.  Whether or not people appreciate this discovery is irrelevant.  Someone has to hold the record for longest album title and she had that one good song, right? 
9. If at first you don’t succeed, don’t give up, but you might want to lose the guitar.  Molly appeared in the first season of ‘Facts of Life’ as a character creatively named Molly.  She played guitar as was as feminist as you could be in an upscale boarding school in upstate New York.
10. Use what you’ve got (‘Breakfast Club’).  Her chest may have been flat but it was definitely dexterous as she used it to apply lipstick.  Just saying.
11. If you are in a mediocre movie, the least you can do is get married in a fabulous top hat with Alan Alda as your Dad (‘Betsy’s Wedding’).
12. Besides the birth of our Lord, nothing else good ever happened in a stable (‘Fresh Horses’).
13. Even nice girls, who avoid most pitfalls, can succumb to the pre-felonious charm of Robert Downey, Jr. (‘Pick-up Artist’).
14. If you’re going to be something, you might as well be #1.  Ms. Molly topped VH1’s List of the Top 100 Child Stars.  A dubious honor, but an award is an award.  Am I right?  It’s on par with the “I Knew I Would Get This Award” Award I received in college.
15. Regardless of your circumstances, always look your best.  Even when she wasn’t ‘famous anymore’ she was photographed wearing gorgeous things like Prada coats, which I wasn’t aware was a brand until I saw her in one.  The closest thing to Prada in my hometown was a feed mill.  Yes, I know it’s not even close.  That’s my point.
     
                    And don’t forget, she taught us redheads could wear pink and introduced us to the wonder that is Annie Potts.  I have also loved and learned many things from Mary Jo Shively but that’s for another blog.  And that is all I'm saying tonight.