You're probably thinking this is a story about Barney and cringing, aren't you? Well relax, he's not blue, he's purple. No, what I am talking about is the Pterodactyl that crapped on my car last week. You see, I don't just love my little blue sports car, I'm pretty much obsessed with it.
Growing up in South Dakota, I got my driver's license at 14. I got my first car about 8 hours later, mainly because I had to wait for the DMV office to open the next morning. It was a 1966 Dodge Charger and while it was pretty cool for the time, I traded it soon after for my first blue sports car, an Opel GT.
The Opel looked like a miniature Corvette and after I had spiffed it up with some chrome wheels, it was pretty much the coolest thing on campus. Unfortunately, it was also a rolling piece of junk. It soon became obvious that I wasn't going to be able to afford the repairs of keeping on the road while still in school and working part time. I sold it and bought the perfect project car, a 1969 Chevy Camaro.
While the Opel was a piece of junk, at least it was mobile. The Camaro needed everything. I overhauled the engine, installed a new transmission, stripped the disgusting faded green paint off, and repainted it, yep, you guessed it, blue. You may wonder why I went through all that work, but I loved doing that kind of thing, and besides, I got the car for $500.
Fast forward about 20 years and I'm at the car dealer with my wife. At this point I had gone through minivans for the kid, small trucks for 4 wheeling, and a couple of sedans for people haulers. I was ready to get back to my blue sports car. It wasn't a middle age thing, at least that's what I told myself.
I picked out the Infiniti G35 Coupe, in Caribbean Blue. It was very fast, it was cool looking, and I wanted it. My wife on the other hand, decided that I couldn't have that. No, no, that car didn't project the right image or something, so I had to get the 4 door sedan version. To this day, I still don't know the real reason, but in the interest of a stable marriage, I consented and drove my brand spanking new "Dad car" home.
It was pretty fast, and it was blue, but it wasn't really a blue sports car. Unlike a sports car, the sedan didn't want to go out on the weekend and drive to the beach, it wanted stay at home and go to the office. So after the wife and I divorced, (no relationship to the car thing, really.. No, I mean it... sort of), I finally got my new dream sports car. A 2009 Nissan 370Z in "write me a ticket now" blue.
It's the best blue sports car I've ever had, bar none, and I treat it like a hangar queen. If there is a parking spot near the door to where I am going, but the spot isn't at least three cars wide, then I'll park in a lonely space over in the north fourty and walk. The last thing I want is to have door rash on that beautiful blue paint job.
With this in mind, I went to lunch with a friend last week and parallel parked a couple of blocks away. Thinking nothing of it, I parked next to a large Oleander bush, and hiked my way to the restaurant. The next morning I was about to load my backpack in my car, when I stared down at the passenger door in disbelief. There in the middle of the door was a ball of crap about the size of a softball, and about a quarter inch thick. Judging by the size of it, I knew that a bird couldn't have done it. It had to have come either from a flying cow, or a Pterodactyl. Since cows don't fly, my guess is that it was a Pterodactyl.
After throwing a banging hands and feet tantrum on the garage floor, and screaming at the car gods for at least ten minutes, I got to work. I soaked the mess with my garden hose, applied plenty of soap, and finally got the Pterodactyl crap to come off. It took a half an hour of careful scrubbing, but it finally dropped on to the floor. The paint still has a stain where the ball of crap was located, but my son is good at fixing this type of thing, and I'm going to let him do his magic.
I'm still pissed off at that dinosaur, but I did realize that there is a moral to this story, sort of. Never park your new car next to an Oleander bush. You never know if a Pterodactyl is hiding inside.