Pink Cadillac
We are not “Cadillac People”. By “we”, I mean my closest friends and family. By “Cadillac People”, I mean of course those who buy and drive Cadillacs. Like luring a fish with bait, I’m hoping that this blog will elicit commentary from Republican Guy, a friend of mine for (gasp) close to, if not more than 10 years whose most recent car purchase was a Caddy, a color somewhere between lipstick red and cranberry. His previous car if I’m not mistaken was a beige-y Toyota Camry. He was Toyota people. Efficient. Safe. Family Oriented. An all-weather kind of guy.
I said nothing at the time but his car choice threw me and even after the quick ride around the block and I shut the car door with a satisfying little-thunk the little voice in my head screamed, “I thought I knew you”.
The aunt who isn’t speaking to me is Toyota people too; she and the False Auntie once bought twin Celica’s; sporty little things with the luxuries of the time: a hand crank sun-roof and a cassette player. Later, she would drive a Saab (which I drove into a pole when I was 12) before settling comfortably behind a Honda. If the False Auntie is whimsical and unpredictable her sister’s demeanor was often more sobering perhaps in counter to the wild-child days of her own youth which included elopement at the age of 16
No one has seen her behind the wheel of any car since the Easter Pizza Episode of 2006 when she put all of us firmly in the rear-view mirror of whatever Honda she had at the time. Their mother, my Grandmummy has Alzheimer’s and so in an effort to reunite them during what is likely to be the last few years of her life, the False Auntie facilitated some time for them to spend together this week.
Not wanting to appear to eager, I called the False Auntie at exactly 7:02 pm last night.
“She bought a Cadillac”, her voice at a timber somewhere between disbelief and disgust. Our conversation lasted some 20 minutes or more and during that time we returned to and analyzed the significance of her choice in cars which seemed to accompany too-tanned skin, too much jewelry and over-processed blond hair.
There is less judgment than there is mystery: who has this woman, this woman who has been like a mother to me, this woman I’ve known for over 30 years, who is now driving the big fat Caddy? Did she win the lottery? Become a Republican? What other secrets might she be hiding? Did she simply get the car at such bargain price that it was too good to pass up? Because no one sets out to buy a Cadillac as much as they seem more to “end up” with one. So how did she get there?
Or more relevantly, how did she and I get to a place where she is completely unknown to me in every way from that which matters (our relationship) to that which doesn’t (whatever she’s driving)?
You never really know anyone at all, do you?
LMAO over this blog!
I spoke with not so False Auntie and asked what the known demographic for Cad drivers is. I think we are mulling that over while laughing our asses off. Ok. So laughing alone will not get rid of our asses but a mom can dream…
It ain’t your grandpa’s Caddy any more! Surely, no one considers the Escalade to be in the “known demographic” for Cadillac, do they? Same can be said for my beautiful Sonoma Red CTS which compares quite favorably in terms of quality to 300series BMW’s and C-Class Mercedes. In my line of work, which sometimes involves taking my clients places, one is expected to present a professional image and project a degree of success. Since some of my clients come from the defense world, having an American car doesn’t hurt. So while I never really imagined myself a Caddy driver, I’m very happy with it and don’t consider it to be a statement to anyone other than my clients. At heart I’m still the boring dependable Toyota driver, the Caddy is like a suite I wear to work.