An oldie but a goody, brought to you,..... by tonsillitis.
When I was fifteen, My dad owned a Kombi. It was a mustard colour... the seats were a Red vinyl of some sort.. sticky, frozen and wet in winter, and sticky, sweaty and scalding in summer.
My friend, and the only person I knew who couldn't give a rats Ahole what kind of car my dad drove was at my house, for no particular reason other than I wasn't at hers, and it was 40 degrees out.
The hippies (my parents) had three options for keeping cool, 1. The hose and all hose related activities.. as long as it was on, near or around the veggie patch, failing that it had to involve washing the car or the dog...... 2. shut up and stop whining, or 3. The beach.
This particular day, Dad (who looks a little like Jesus... seriously) decided that it was too hot, even for the hose, and he came out in his summer uniform of Jeans, cut off mid thigh..(probably with a Stanley knife knowing my Dad) , and a Van Gough T, both spattered in paint of various colours, and announced it was time for the beach.
My friend and I chorused a "Yaaaaaaay" in perfect harmonies, and grabbed some towels (probably also covered in paint spatter.)
While the pair of us waited the mandatory hour for dad to get his arse into gear...( and probably get the car to start) there was much excited a tart like chatter about boys at the beach,... Like I said we were fifteen.
So we are finally dak daking our way to keeping cool, singing Crowded House, Green Day and REM songs,
Trying our Hardest to harmonies and doing our best to look like we were in the film clip.
That friend is the only person in the world I have ever felt comfortable enough to Jam like I was alone in front of the mirror singing, into impulse can microphone with.
Our Mustard coloured Kombi was notoriously.... a piece of shit, The handbrake didn't work, the lights worked!.. but only if you broke off a bit of foil from the packet of PK in the glove box and shoved it in the black box with wires ... but my Dad loved that fucking car, It had been his friend for a very long time, and he wasn't going to give up on her because she was a little......... unroadworthy.
We finally arrive at the beach, about a twenty minute drive, 35 - 40 minutes in Kombi time, we roll the door back, and do our best impersonation of the chicks from the coke ad, stepping out of a hot sweaty car at the beach, when to our divine delight about two car spots down from the mustard time bomb..were the hottest group of surfer guys we had ever clapped our fifteen year old eyes on........ WITH GUITARS! Boys didn't come any hotter than that....
When what did we over hear them say?....... "awww maaaad... a Kombi!"
We couldn't have felt any cooler.
The two of us splashed around squealing in a lame attempt to get the boys to look at us in the water.... and for enough time for my dad to get involved with his fishing and drift wood collecting, he always managed to come back with some piece that looked to him like the thinker...a naked person..... or a bird.
From what I remember,
My friend and I set up our towel camp as close to the group of boys as was possible around my boys around my daughter hating dad.
We did our best to look like we couldn't care less that they were there, then there was eye batting and giggling and discussion of how awesome it would have been if we had bought our guitars so the boys could see we could play... and more over the top giggling.
After a few hours of this it was time to go, we tarted our way back to the coolest car we had ever owned a safe distance behind my dad in the hope that we wouldn't be associated, even though he was driving and sideways glanced and smiled knowing smiles at each other imagining all the cool things they were saying about us......... we popped the handle of the kombi sliding door and it slid making a grinding and crunching sound..... straight off the runner, crashing to the ground and narrowly avoiding a nearby parked car......
The group of boys erupted in whooping rounds of laughter, thigh slapping and pointing in our general direction......
I shit you not.
Crouching down in the back of the Dumbest car we ever owned, red from the sun and embarrassment, I glared at my dad as he rambled on over and said.... "check that out!... missed the car!... gas!....".... before picking it up and crunching it back on the runner.
The two of us sat there kicking the back of my dads seat till we were safely out of the car park then the two of us looked at each other and burst out laughing... The kind of laughter that starts as a cackle and ends up with no sound as you are out of breath and you clutch at your stomach because it aches tears rolling our sandy sunburned cheeks......
My throat hurts.