The Bubble Car Club

My first car was a 1992 Honda Civic Hatchback that was inherited from my older brother.  It looked just like this:

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My friends and I named it Bubble Car, well, for what I think are pretty obvious reasons.  It wasn’t the fastest car, nor was it necessarily the coolest car, but it fit me perfectly and I loved it.  It ran like a dream (until it died very suddenly mid-roadtrip, but that’s another story for another day), and I didn’t know anyone else who had one just like it.  It was my unique ride.

Late at night, we would get together and do weird things like climb up on Courtney’s roof to watch stars… or play flashlight tag in the fields outside the county’s rec center… or cook a whole bunch of food that no one would be hungry enough to eat… you know, random teenager stuff.  Inevitably, the five of us would find ourselves at the time of night when everyone had to go home, and it just always seemed like I was driving.  We usually got to Peter’s house first, and we would have the hardest time going anywhere else.

For hours, we would sit outside Peter’s house and talk about absolutely nothing.  We would make up stories, recount memories, plan our futures, talk about which teachers and which kids were the most difficult to be around, and we swore that EVERYTHING talked about in the car stayed in the car.  We were the Bubble Car Club, and the confines of that vehicle were a safe haven for the deepest of thoughts. If there ever happened to be someone with us who wasn’t a regular part of the club, they were granted the same courtesy of being allowed to say whatever was on their mind, knowing that it would stay within the car.

I miss the Car Club.  As an adult, it’s extremely difficult to develop a close-knit group of friends that is always reliable and always trustworthy.  I certainly know adults who have continued to keep their best friends from high school and/or college, but I know very few who create this type of group in adulthood.  You’d think it would be more common, given TV shows like Friends, or Seinfeld, or How I Met Your Mother, or… well, any sitcom really.  The dynamics of a group like that just lends itself to all sorts of interesting and funny events.  I have to wonder sometimes if I’m doing something wrong because I don’t have that.  I have people I can count on if I need to, and I have people I like to hang out with, but we are not a group in any sense of the word.  I’m not really sure I have time for a group.

See, that’s just it.  Who has the time?  My schedule is completely absurd.  Look at me.  I’m blogging at 1:30am on a Tuesday because this is my early evening.  This is my free time.  I happen to have the next 36 hours off, but then I’m back to a weird schedule for a couple of days, and then off again.  I work most weekends when most other people are going to barbeques and getting smashed at night.  

Back to the Bubble Car Club–it’s interesting that when Bubble Car died, the club died with it.  I eventually bought a new car (with money I obtained from selling Beanie Babies, but again, another day), but it just wasn’t as fun to hang out in.  Something about it just wasn’t as inviting and didn’t lend itself to spilling secrets and sharing dreams.  Come to think of it, that was sort of the beginning of the end of that group of friends as well.  We all started getting caught up in other things and lost the closeness we had for the year or so that Bubble Car was mine.  I suppose it’s just the way it is, but I will always think fondly of those days.

Maybe we can start a club in the Fiesta. 

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