Mindy Fortune

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I think it’s really funny what people decide to put on their cars. I mean, if you think about it, your car can really tell a lot about you. Let’s take mine for example. I have a 2004 blue 4 door Honda Civic that I rightfully named Penelope. Right off the bat, you can tell I could really give a hoot about cars because I went with the most reliable in hopes that it could somehow last forever and I would never ever have to worry about getting another one.

There’s nothing fancy about Penelope, no sunroof, no tinted windows, but it is blue, so there’s some fun points in that. Its outside is kinda dirty most of the time. I work right next to a gravel construction pit and my poor car is constantly parked in a cloud of dust all day. I could wash it more, but I don’t, so that could either mean that, I’m not ashamed to have a dirty car, that I’m too cheap to take it the carwash, or that I’d rather spend my time doing something fun rather than washing it myself; in my case, all of the above. It doesn’t have any dents or dings, there are some small scrapes here and there, nothing really noticeable which could lead you to think that I am a careful driver, I don’t speed, I don’t go out in questionable areas that people may somehow deface poor Penelope, or that if I am the opposite, I quickly get my car fixed so as not to portray to others the details of my bad driving and elusive nighttime activities. Me? Not including my highly entertaining concerts I put on while behind the wheel, I’m a pretty boring driver, so no racecars in my future.

If you look inside my car right now, you may find a grape somewhere under the driver’s seat that I lost yesterday. If you do find it, could you please take it out, it’s probably gross. You would find one of those sun visors, which means that I park for long periods of time, so I must have a job, and apparently that I do not care for entering very hot cars, very perceptive. You would see my basketball shoes in the back seat telling you that I’m pretty active, or at least pretend to be. There’s a Thomas Guide, telling you that I am ancient, and afraid of technology because I don’t have a GPS. A pretty big binder full of cds, which also solidifies the fact that I am too cheap to make my car Ipod accessible, or that I just love the sound of scratched and skipping cds, I like to keep it real. Fo sho. You’d see an audio book in my center console. Nerd of the herd? Or the most awesome idea ever? What’s makes LA traffic easier to deal with, I’ll tell you, a little Nicholas Sparks, that’s what. There is also a little stuffed Pound Puppy dog in my windshield. This may tell you that I have a dog. I don’t. Or that I like dogs. I do. But mostly that I like Pound Puppies. I really do.

I don’t have any bumper stickers or any um, whatever it is when people put their dead friend’s name on their car which is somehow supposed to honor them. I never really understood that. If I die, and Karim puts my name on the back of his Toyota Camry, I will come back to punch him in the face. I also don’t really understand when people put those little people stickers on their back windshield to show you who is in their family, and that the son likes baseball and the daughter likes tennis. I’d be worried that a murderer would follow me home and know exactly how many bullets to bring to kill everyone in my family and he would know that my dog can be won over with a bone.