The Old Mercury Marquis
Today I was reminded of our old station wagon. We had a few station wagons, but the one that we seemed to have the longest and drove the furthest was an old Mercury Marquis woody. That's fake wood siding for you youngsters. It was yellow. It was HUGE!! And LOTS of bad things happened in it. Things my brother and sisters will remember for the rest of our lives.
Like the time we were driving home from Florida and we had just left a gas station where we were all to have gone to the bathroom. Well, I just didn't have to go then. I didn't. So, my father is hauling ass up 95 and I announce that I have to go to the bathroom. Bad. Buckle your seat belts for the rant that came my way about not going when I should have and we can't stop every 5 minutes for one of us to pee. My dad had had it and refused to pull over. He asked my mother to hand a plastic bag to my sister sitting in the backseat next to me.......NO, I'm not kidding. My sister had to hold the bag open for me to pee in. As if this wasn't humiliating enough, my mother then rolled down the window and threw the bag out of the window while everyone's head shot around to watch it bust open on the highway. Uproarious laughter ensued. Nutsy Fagan cried helplessly. It sounds mean, but there were NINE of us in the car. I kid you not. NINE. It took 2 1/2 days for us to get there. But we did get to stay in two different hotels along the way, which seemed to make things a whole lot more fun. Did I mention that my mother spent nine hours in the beauty parlour the day before we left and didn't want her hair mussed, so she chain smoked for the entire 30 hour drive with the windows closed?
Another time we were heading home from Monticello (this time only eight in the car), when I was hit with a virus of some sort. I was immediately banished to the "way back" of the Marquis with a paper bag to vomit in. The other seven divided themselves between the front and middle row seats. They didn't throw the bag out the window this time. Dad was afraid if it got on the woody, it would fuck up the paint and fake wood siding. So, he pulled over and threw it out.
But the memory about the Marquis that is forever burned into my mind is the time my beautiful green pleather suitcase with the little handle blew off the roof on the NY State Thruway. The sweet litttle round suitcase smashed on the highway, a truck went over it and there were all my little clothes with tread marks on them. Scarred for life? Not yet.
A year later, we are heading to Monticello again and my father gets up at the crack of dawn to tie the luggage on top of the car. I wake up and run outside in my little flannel nightgown. I begin pulling on my dad's sweater, "PULLEASE DON'T PUT MY SUITCASE ON THE TOP OF THE CAR DADDY!! PULLEASE!!" He smiles at me like I'm a little silly billy. "Now, now Nutsy, everything will be alright. Nothing will happen, look how tight I'm tying it, I promise it will be okay." I never believed him even though I gave in and went back inside. I swear I'm telling you the truth that this time mine AND my grandma's suitcase fell off and hit the front of the car behind us. It's all a blur after that.
It was the first car I ever drove. My parents were out for dinner and my girlfriends and I drove it up and down the block about 15 times. God that was fun! It was really fast. I was 15....