Jokers, Cake Stains and the Brown Vulva (Ahem..'84 Volvo 240DL)

To My Dear Sweet 240DL,

You were never the cool car. You were solid. You could literally roll with the punches. Your jimmied cassette radio provided many hours of excellent tunes. You filled the four door car with numerous tracks of the Pet Shop Boys, Madonna, some Lenny Kravitz, and a little too much of the Reality Bites soundtrack.

I loved your convenient shelf right under the radio. You let my pal Joker ride along each day. His wild green plastic hair blowing in your A/C induced breeze. The crazy out of his mind smile bringing as much cheer to you as his purple pants suit did to me. You let me plaster you with Joker pictures and stickers. Yet you, precious, reliable brown Volvo, remained the Vulva (eloquently dubbed so by E) to me.

You never minded that I piled in numerous friends to press their butts and faces into your backseat and windows. When E and I had the chocolate cake fight all over your interior you took it in stride. I lovingly cleaned your upholstery the very next day. I washed you weekly for a while. I took you to school so you could get an American edumacation vs. your Swedish one. I trustingly let you protect me in the "hood" of Providence and along Federal Hill on late nights with friends.

College bound you tagged along driving all points South for what seemed like decades. Only acting up once so that a man named Cooter (for reals y'all) could come to the rescue. I still think you set that one up. With a bit of protest you traveled closer to the Mason Dixon line and helped me finish up my college years. Then dear friend you took a turn for the worse. Conking out on me in parking lots and at intersections. You made me do the Chinese fire drill too often to replace your spark plugs at lights at midnight. That was not cool Vulva. Not cool at all. I kicked your tires for that one.

Unceremoniously and without a tear I gave you up to the Towing Man on a random Tuesday. Bye Bye Brown Vulva. Good riddance. Adios! So long Turkey. I now hate you and you've been replaced. It was not the best of break ups by a long shot. I was less than subtle with my disregard for your disloyal behavior at the end. I might have even yelled at you as you were towed away, the disgust in my eyes, "You've been replaced!" "She's shiny, new, and has power locks!" She was everything you were not.

Months later I saw you. It was late. You were at a 7-11 on Rhode Island Avenue in DC. My sorority stickers still in your back window. I pressed my face to the taxi cab glass and yelled, "My first car! The Vulva!" I think the driver thought he had a case of the crazies in his car. I'm glad you got a third life.


This Open Letter to my first car, the Brown Vulva, was part of Blog Blast Friday! Head on over to PBN for some great prizes, we're talking car stuff and purses people! Ask Patty too if you've got a car question!