I once saw on Discovery that the nose of Saabs are designed so that they can hit a straying reindeer without endangering the life of the driver. I don't know about the reindeer, but this winter was a stressful time for Saab-lovers, like me, across the globe.
We waited with our fingers crossed as General Motors sought a buyer for the Swedish car brand. Deliverance came from a small Dutch car maker, Spyker. To the many fans of the peculiar little car, CEO of Spyker, Victor Muller, was a hero (girls don't loose me here, it gets better).
I've always been fascinated by machines with wheels. I was one of those kids that stood by the road waiting for a coal truck to pass by. My mini heart filled the cavity of my chest so that I could hardly breathe while waiting for the massive grill of a MAC or Peterbuilt to appear around the corner. In the 80's the trucks had the most amazing colors. Easter egg purple, grass green and Pacific blue glowed as sunbeams collided with the glitter in the paint.
“Bruuuur,-putter-putter,-putter,-put,-put,” the exhaust exhaled as the truck down shifted. I lifted a trembling arm into the air to pull an imaginary cord to let the truck know I wanted to say hello. I would pull again and again; half hoping he would answer, half terrified of the tremendous sound the horn of such a mighty machine made.
As with any vehicle of this size, whether it be a fire truck, semi truck, or locomotive, I was oblivious of the man steering inside. To me he was nothing more than a passenger upon the back of a living, breathing dragon of steal and chrome.
My own set of wheels
As I grew, I became one of those passengers. I was a reckless go-cart driver and my fearless approach to life resulted in many a scooter crash and gravel-filled wounds. I couldn't wait to get my licence and dreamt of the day my palms would clutch the steering wheel of my very own car.
It finally came in the summer of ‘96. I was 17 and visiting my dad in the US. He had already said he had a surprise for me and I just knew it would be a car. I wanted a pink Suzuki Sidekick or a blue Volkswagen California or even a purple '84 Pontiac Firebird. What I got was a sage green ‘86 Saab 900S.
When my dad showed it to me, I simply cried. There were no words to describe how ugly and uncool this monstrosity was. Even though it had a sunroof, a stereo system that "was worth more than the car", a flawless paint job and chic brown tinted windows, I thought I'd rather die than be seen in that granny car!
However, it had an interesting catch. Apart from being a stick shift (I had no idea how to drive a stick shift) it was missing the 2nd and 3rd gears! If there is anything I love, it's a challenge. To make a long story short, even though she nearly cost me my life on a few occasions and a gas station its side wall, I fell in love with Sage the Saab.
Shortly thereafter I moved to Holland where I didn't have a driver’s permit, as they are very expensive. So when I got to collage I spent a huge chunk of my student loan on my licence and another huge chunk on a gas guzzling tuned 2.6 liter Audi A6 Avant. I also had love affairs with a rusted Toyata Tazz in Cape Town, South Africa with a steering wheel and stick on the 'wrong' side of the car and a blinking red Austin Martin Vantage Roadster in Amsterdam (but that’s another story). I eventually moved on to a quick little economy car and then graduated to a family car, the Volvo V70.
The mama bike
Then the bank crisis happened. Rick and I found ourselves both out of work and for the first time in our marriage, we had to share a car (I know, boo-hoo). This meant that when we both found work again, I had to go to work on a bicycle or take the bus (now there's a vehicle I have little appreciation for). I finally got the long-dreamt-of job at the local paper and here I was rushing to interviews on my ‘mama’ bike; complete with basket on the front and child seat on the back!
Life is back to normal now; I have a car again and we're both working hard to fix the damage done in 2009. But I still take the bike when I can. It keeps me fit, it's good for the environment and I have to admit, in the city, two wheels are better than four. But sometimes I can't get over the crazy contrast of a 17 year old in a Saab and a 30 something year old on a bicycle for mothers. So how did I get from there to here?!
It’s a really long story but I can’t wait to share adventures like looking for a key in island dunes, photographing Nelson Mandela, and climbing on rooftops in the heart of Amsterdam. The bizarre existence of an expat, behind the scene moments in journalism and the odd privilege of being a mother will unfold as I keep you up to date on a monthly basis via this blog.
I look forward to sharing my estranged life with you and hope we can all have a good laugh. Happy reading!
