Mi Primer Carro
Narration
Viviana Barba
We were almost there, just one more exit off the highway and we would be home, or so I thought. We flew by the exit and continued on the highway I whined to my father, “Y ahora? Where are we going now?” He looked at me through the rearview mirror with a sonrisa de Diablo and said, “We’re taking a detour I have to go pick something up from the hotel we stayed at before we moved in.” I grunted and muttered some un-lady like words under my breath. “What was that?” my dad asked, I looked at him and sarcastically answered, “Nada importante viejo.” He turned to my mom who was still wearing her church veil and she just shook her head.
I never really understood why she would wear that velo to church it seemed so out of date. She was certainly my Abuelita’s daughter that’s for sure; she wore the same velo to Sunday mass when she was younger. I continued to look out the window and watch as todos los arboles were tugged by the wind from the cars speeding down the highway. “Que lindos.” I thought to myself. They were so strong and deeply rooted into the ground but yet they looked like ragdolls being tossed around by an angry child. While I was deep in thought my dad looked back and loudly asked, “Viv, are you awake?” Tired and annoyed I replied, “Yes, I’m awake. Unfortunately I can’t go to sleep with you yelling my name like a caballo sin cabeza.” He laughed he barely understood the insult but he knew it was an insult. He continued to laugh for a few more seconds, and began to tell me about his first car.
His eyes gleamed as he proudly spoke about the little car he had worked so diligently for. “I worked right after school until late at night so that I could afford to buy my hoopty.” He chuckled after he said the word hoopty. Growing up in LA in the 1970s was interesting to say the least the picture on my dad’s license was beyond hilarious he had it all, the afro, the gold chain, the loud shirt, you name it this viejo had it....