Flintstone Car

I don't know what it is about Pearl's posts but she always inspires me to write these long rambling comments that somehow make me feel guilty about not turning them into posts on my blog - that is how impressed I have become with myself. It's the damn universal absurdities of life that she ruminates on. I am hoping that when she makes it big she takes me with her as her writing partner. That is called synergy baby. (I have no idea what that means)

So she was talking about her clown car and all the bad things it has gone through while still running and I remembered a story from my childhood. So as you read my recycled comment, think about a car story you might have and post it on your blog. I have great tales about my 77 Volkswagon Beatle (high school car) that I will share another time. For now, please enjoy the saga of the 'Flintstone' car.


That beauty reminds me of my cousin's 'Flintstones' car with the rusted out floorboards that my scary Aunt broke through one day. As her shoes were ripped off her feet she lost 4 toes in all of 3 seconds. But not two toes on each foot. No. 3 on one foot and one on the other. BOTH Big Toes which made her tilt forward when she walked from then on. You can replace lost thumbs with toes but not the reverse which makes NO sense to me. Imagine my cousin driving while screaming. Two toddlers in the back with my now profusely bleeding Aunt 'Stumpy' screaming. Me in the front seat trying to get out of the rolled down window, screaming and NO ONE thinking that maybe STOPPING the car is a good idea at this point. I swear those toes haunted that car for many a year. You could look down and see the road when he drove the for TWO MORE YEARS. To this day I can't even look at flip flops. True Story.