The Rovers

When it comes to cars, my family is a little bit crazy. For a while, we were not the typical family that has a mom-like SUV and a dad’s nice car. We were not even the kind of family that has a few different cars. Range Rovers were our thing. We had three. They were all made in the year 1995 or before, and looked identical to one another. Two of them were black, but one was long wheel based and the other was short. We called the long one “Long” and the short one “Short.” Our third was a dark green, which still looks black in most light. My brother named it after a Bratz doll he had when he was like three years old, and we called it “Blaze.”
It’s not like there is something so great about these Range Rovers that we had to have three of them. In truth, they are pretty bad cars. We spent more money fixing them up in the shop than what they were worth. They aren’t very reliable, and very often overheat when we drive up Dallas Divide. When you are driving them, it’s almost as if you were steering a truck. They can go about sixty on a good day, but anymore than that they begin to shake.
But for some odd reason, my dad loves them. Either that or he is stuck in a rut, unable to sell them or buy anything new. He is emotionally attached to these pieces of metal, and I have even seen him talk to them as if they were humans.
After a few years living in Telluride, we decided three cars was one too many. I couldn’t drive yet and our driveway at home only fit two anyway. My dad got up the courage and decided to sell one. He chose Short, the oldest one, and sold it to a young fellow who worked at a local restaurant. My mom, brother, and I were excited to let Short go, but it wasn’t so easy on my dad.
For the longest time we made it through our daily routines with the two rattling cars until something clicked in my dad’s brain. It was around November, a few months away from when I would be getting my permit. I was accompanying my dad on his walk to the mine when we started talking about cars.
“I want to get you a nice, safe car to drive,” my dad said.
And my immediate response was, “Anything but a Range Rover.” My dream car was an Audi A4 Convertible, stick shift of course. I had never driven one or even been in one for that matter, but I wanted one so badly. Later that month on our way home from Aspen, we stopped in Glenwood Springs to test drive some cars at the Audi dealer. I hadn’t got my permit yet, so I was just a passenger in the red Audi with the slick black leather seats. I could feel the excitement each time my dad shifted into a lower gear, going faster and faster down I-70.
“Wow this car is nice,” my dad admitted.
“Little better than a Range Rover, right?” I joked.
The whole drive home we talked about cars. My mom thought it was “inappropriate” for me to be driving a car that nice; she was the one who needed a new car. She kept trying to tell me that I should get something more substantial, something that will work wonders in the snow. I did agree with her theories, but it was hard for me to picture myself in a different car.
Later in the year, my mom’s words had gotten to me. I said something to my dad about how it would probably be better to have an SUV. I figured a bigger car may be safer for a new driver like me and also I did not want any problems in the winter storms. Immediately my dad started rambling on about his top choices for an SUV. Obviously Range Rovers were still at the top of his list, but he did mention a few other models made by Land Rover that I began to consider. Back when one of our old cars was getting worked on, the car company would send us a “loner” car. We got one almost every time our car went in, and sometimes we would end up keeping it for months. It was always a Land Rover, but usually ten times nicer and newer than ours. I remembered that those cars were like heaven compared to our junk, and I actually would be blessed just to get anything but a fifteen year old car. I didn’t know at the time, but over the next few nights my dad went online and looked for deals on pre-owned Discoveries. He still remembered my desire for an Audi, and therefore he would look for good deals on them as well. Every now and then, he would show me a picture of a car he found, but after a while I stopped caring. I had come to the conclusion, after all our talk, that I didn’t need a car. Of course my dad paid no attention to me, and a few days later went on to purchase a silver Discovery, 2004, without my knowledge of it. It was a Land Rover just like our other cars, but because of the newer model, it was a lot nicer.
I came home from hockey late one night, starving and ready for dinner. I was a few months before my birthday, but on my place setting lay a little box that read “Zia Sun” on the cover.
“What’s this?” I asked, confused as to what it could possibly be.
“Open it!” My mom urged.
“Does she know what it is?” Benni asked in his ten year old baby voice.
I pealed off the tape and opened the tiny blue earring box to find keys inside. Car keys. My eyes widened and my parents said “Happy Birthday” in unison. I ran to the window to look for the new car, which I somehow had not seen on my way home.
“Oh. My. God!” I gushed, and ran out the front door to the silver Discovery. I didn’t care that it wasn’t the Audi I had longed for, this was better. My whole family was outside, making a commotion, making sure I loved it (which of course I did). Névé, my long term boyfriend, drove up just as we were all piling into the new car, me in the driver’s seat, for a test drive. Névé hopped in shotgun while my family piled in the back, and I put the car in drive and headed down the street.
I hadn’t really driven a car before, so it was kind of interesting. I ran a few stop signs, jerked a bit, and went a little to fast on the fifteen-mile-an-hour streets. But I was mesmerized. I was unable to be behind the wheel for another month or so, but with a smooth new car, I enjoyed tagging along in the passenger seat for the ride.