Three Things

Today is the day where we share three thoughts, three things that happen to be on our mind at the moment. Three is merely a suggestion, so please share more if you want.


I'll begin.

1. There are daffodils blooming on the hillside near Flat Iron in Gloucester. In January. Although it's always a pleasure to see daffodils in bloom, there's something not quite right about January blooms. In fact, January blooms should be an oxymoron, at least as it relates to daffodils around here.

2. There are two dodgeball tournaments around town this weekend: one at Mathews High School Friday night, and the other at Ware Academy on Saturday afternoon. Chesapeake Bay Son is playing in both of them. Chesapeake Bay Daughter is playing in one of them. Chesapeake Bay Woman is playing in one of them, but she's not saying which one because she hasn't played dodgeball since fourth grade and now there are all these rules and she's mortified that she has to participate and is only doing so because a friend asked and did she mention she really doesn't want to play and let's move on to another subject.

3.  Monday morning my car wouldn't start. After much ado, it finally turned over and was acting fine until that evening when it started to make a noise. Something underneath the car sounds like a female opera singer holding the same note for a really long time. A new car is not in my financial forecast for at least another several years, so this car must last a long time. Simultaneously, newly-licensed Chesapeake Bay Son is perusing Craig's List on a daily basis, reading aloud the bargains du jour, hoping to find a used car for his own purposes. One of those "bargains" included a Camaro. (Like he's gonna drive a Camaro before I do!) Not wishing to quash his dreams entirely, I gently informed him that the insurance, maintenance, gas, and personal property taxes would be more than a little out of our league for that vehicle, so let's focus on something a little more realistic. Like lottery tickets so we can both buy Camaros.

That's all I have.

Now it's your turn to share three things, whatever's on your mind. Anything at all.

The Hooptie

This aging Pontiac which lives down Hallieford way still has charm, no? I think so. Look at that face, it's loaded with personality.

I have a very soft spot in my heart for old anything cars. My favorites are muscle cars from the '70s but some of these older model tanks everyday cars have appeal too.

Back in the late '80s and early '90s I worked in Washington, DC, and northern Virginia for a telecommunications company formerly known as MCI.

Chesapeake Bay Children? This was when people used calling cards to place long distance calls away from home, sometimes from the confines a claustrophobic contraption known as a phone booth. What about cell phones, you say? No such thing. Regrettably there *was* such a thing as puffy blouses, and even worse they were in vogue. Also, the dress code known as business casual had not been invented either, and a very young Chesapeake Bay College Graduate was *most* appalled at the fact that she had to wear a suit and PANTYHOSE with high heels to work every day.

You won't be may be shocked to know I've strayed from the topic.

Anyway, during that time frame someone I worked with was telling a very animated story, and about midstream she said, "Girl, you will never believe what happened next. She pulled right on up to the house in a hooptie."

Well I'd never heard that term before. Perhaps, like the wheel cell phones, it hadn't been fully invented or circulated yet. Or perhaps my sheltered upbringing in Mathews had something to do with it, who knows. Using the rest of the story as context, I deduced that a hooptie was just another term for old, beat-up (and sometimes jazzed-up) jalopies the size of small aircraft carriers.

Lest you think Chesapeake Bay Woman has finally gone off the deep end with her silly, made-up words or completely erroneous statements, you are correct she offers the following definitions provided by the urbandictionary.com:

hoop-d, hoopdie, hoopdy, HOOPTIE, hoop-t, hoopty, hooptee, etc.
Today it can be any car or vehicle used as personal transportation. But it was originally used to refer to classic 70's or 80's era large American cars (Impalas, New Yorkers, Towne Cars and so on...), usually found in the ghetto and in poor condition, that had been "pimped out" with garish paint, animal print interiors, wheels too large or too small and so on. They are often roomy, comfortable, worn out gas guzzlers.
Ex: The tail pipe fell off my hooptie.

or this:

hooptie
Any car that meets the following: a) driver must enter car through passenger side b) three different brand and size tires - three of them missing hubcap c) exhaust is held up by half a clothes hanger - other half replaces the antenna d) backfires every three blocks - loudest backfire being when car is turned off e) must open door at drive-thrus as windows don't roll down f) you only get one AM station and the tape deck eats all tapes inserted g) can't open the glove box as the whole thing will fall out h) if you let go of steering wheel while driving you'll make a u-turn i) must manually move blinker lever up and down as it no longer blinks on it's own j) must keep one foot on brake and one on accelerator when at a complete stop k) has had the same temporary registration sticker in the window for the last 18 months.

There are still quite a few hoopties alive and kicking in Mathews but most, like the car above, are planted permanently in a yard or the woods or even an old shed.

Do you have a story about a hooptie? How about pantyhose? Pontiacs? Hallieford?

Happy Friday!

p.s. This is a standing offer to anyone who owns a hooptie, a muscle car, an antique vehicle (including a tractor or boat), an older house or a scenic vista. In exchange for permission to legally trespass, I'll photograph your property and feature the photos on the blog (only if you wish) and/or give you copies of the shots. Be forewarned that if older vehicles are involved, I may want to keep drive them.