My First Car

Living in Southern California has always called for your own set of wheels and when I was in high school, drivers ed. was a requirement. One semester in the driving simulators and the car, and one semester of health. The coaches taught all of those classes, and the thing I remember most about health class is how to fold a map. You thought I was going to say something else, didn't you? Coach Pence evidently taught a mean map folding class because that's all I remember of the semester I spent with him at Loara High School. Coach Brown taught driving in a real car on a real street, and Coach Chandler taught the driving simulators, which consisted of putting the film on, turning off the lights, and taking a nap. So, all of that to say that by my 16th birthday, I was all set to drive on my own. And amazingly, my folks let me do just that as soon as I got home with my freshly minted license. 

I drove my parents cars for the first year or so, including the AMC Gremlin my dads business had as a delivery car. But it wasn't long before I decided I needed my own set of wheels. I never minded my folks cars, but having to share was a drag and when Gramma decided she needed a new car, I jumped at the chance to buy hers. It was a great one that I wish I had kept.

Gramma was always a Chevy gal. In fact, I remember she really liked Novas, but the one that I managed to get my hands on was a 1967 Chevelle with real potential! Gramma had 29 grandkids, and she usually had one or more of us with her no matter what she was doing. So the first thing she always did with a new car was to put plastic seat covers on them. You know, like those embossed things that were actually put on like another layer of upholstery? So, the fabric seats underneath were pristine. The first thing I did was rip the plastic off, of course! 

She had also clipped a pole or something in a parking lot, so there was a scrape down the side. No problem. I managed to get the money together to get that fixed, and have it painted at Earl Sheib.

The car went from the stock Granada Gold color to a nice shade of copper brown. Then I added mags and wide tires, and jacked that baby up with air shocks in the rear end. It was sweet!! It had a pretty big engine in it as well. A stock engine in the Chevelle was 350hp. Not that I could tell you how quick it got off the line or anything. Of course not............. But when there was a little water in the nice flat cement gutters, it put up a really good rooster tail! At least......... that's what I was told. Sure. 

I have to tell you that I was kind of a nerdy kid. Never really comfortable in my own skin or confident that I possessed any talent. I was never in the cool group and pretty much marched to my own drummer. I wore glasses, and when photo gray lenses came out I got myself a pair of aviator frames. I had no real sense of style, I just thought they looked passable as both sunglasses and regular glasses. Little did I know that the combination of the car and the glasses made me intimidating. A girl in a college class told me that. So, obviously, I wish I had kept the car.......... AND the glasses!!

Acts 27 KJV

16...... We let her drive...

17.....And so were driven...

20.....All hope that we would be saved was then taken away...

Let not the foot of pride come upon me,

And let not the hand of the wicked

drive me away.

Ps. 36:11

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Uncle Chenia Named My Dog

I come from a LARGE extended family. I stopped counting at 31 first cousins, and haven’t even tried to keep up with subsequent generations. So, as I’m sure you can imagine, the names in this brood run the gamut. The family fav’s are ‘Norman’ and ‘Mary.’ They’ve been used for several generations, and our forerunners gave the names substance and meaning. They were, and are, strong and respectable people. Someday, I’ll dazzle you with the breadth, length, and depth of our family tree.

Our family has always been a fairly traditional lot, and have never been ones to make up names. That’s not to say that there was no appreciation for the unusual though, hence, the name “Chenia.”

The story goes that the first Chenia’s mother gave birth, opened the Bible, and the first place her finger fell was on this particular name. I did some searching recently, and only found the name once in an obscure translation. That exercise resulted in some good natured teasing from my cousin David that amounted to “Who in their right mind would actually research something like that!?” My cousin Mary summed it up perfectly. "Fanny Jane had just given birth, at home, in 1869! Cut her some slack!!" That left subsequent generations to make up a good story about it. We’re a long line of story tellers, and like nothing better than to edit and exaggerate to make it tell better!

In any case, the first Chenia in our family, had the middle initial A. and he put the name on the map. Several Chenia’s have followed and proudly carried the name. (We pronounce it ‘Chee-Nee’. Just so you’ll know…..) And I hope it’ll be used again in future generations, because I loved my own uncle Chenia, and would love to see the legacy continue.

So…….. what does all this have to do with naming my dog? Was it named ‘Chenia?’ Of course not! The dog was a female! Giving gender specific names to opposite gender dogs didn’t start until several years later for me. I was only 17 and hadn’t really found my groove as yet.

I purchased this particular dog with my own money, and no input from siblings or parents. (Much to my parents chagrin, I’m sure!) I arrived at my folks front door with a cute black puppy that I’m fairly certain was possessed. Her favorite thing to do was tear from one end of the dark colored couch to the other, in a room lit only by an old TV, all the while growling and barking.  All you could see were white teeth, and a little bit of the whites of her eyes. What do you name a dog like that? My dad regularly called her ‘Beelzebub.’ Somehow, I didn’t think that was quite right for her.

So, I loaded her in my ’67 Chevy and took a drive out to my Uncle Chenia’s shop. His business involved a lot of metal and grease. I’m not totally sure what he produced, but his shop was fascinating. I knew my dad was there, so it seemed like a good place to be that afternoon. Plus, said puppy had doodied in my pink bedroom slipper in the back seat of the car so I needed to do a bit of cleaning and deodorizing. Then Chenia saw the puppy, and asked her name.

I was trying desperately to come up with an appropriate name for her. She was black, with a fluffy curly coat. ‘Blackie?’ ‘Fluffy?’ Ummmmm, no. Nothing fit. And then Chenia came up with ‘Ebony.’ Perfect!  In fact, when I bought her, she shared a cage with her brother that was her negative image and completely white. If I could just get back to the pet store before her brother was sold, ‘Ebony and Ivory’ would be awesome! But alas the parentals put their collective feet down. And so, ‘Ebony’ it was.

I don’t know why I bothered, though. Our pets have NEVER been called by their given names. Our favorite nickname for her ended up being ‘Fling.’ No. I won’t tell you why.

But I will tell you she was an amazing dog. She grew to be about 25 pounds but had the heart of a St. Bernard and the courage of a Doberman. Her favorite thing to do was chase things. And her favorite thing to chase was frog jerky. Did you know that when frogs sit on the sidewalk and don’t move as it heats up they turn into jerky? Frog jerk was easy to find so we didn’t have to carry a ball with us when we walked her. Perhaps we should start a new line of pet treats……………….. 

 But it is just as the Scriptures say, 

"What God has planned 

for people who love Him 

is more than eyes have seen 

or ears have heard. 

It has never even entered our minds!" 

1 Cor. 2:9