A PICTURE SPEAKS A THOUSAND WORDS

This is How I Made a Spectacle of Myself Back in the Day

Can I just pretend this wasn’t me, please?

That photo is of me, despite my desire to pretend it isn’t.

The truth is that I have always enjoyed making a bit of a spectacle of myself. Why else would I have ended up at Drama School in London? You don’t get in just on acting ability, that’s for sure.

Well, I tired of Drama School. However, as you can see, I didn’t shake the love of making a spectacle of myself…wherever I went.

But here’s the twist…

The car wasn’t actually mine to paint like that

Owning a car comes with all sorts of responsibilities, and I wasn’t really the “responsible” type. However, I was an enthusiastic car-user without the responsibilities.

The story behind this car was that it was given to my boyfriend-at-the-time, by his dad.

His dad had driven Rover Minis all his adult life. A classically British, “miniature” car, he wouldn’t drive anything else.

They were cheap to run and insure, and easy to park. Besides which, he rarely went anywhere except for the doctor’s surgery in which he worked as a General Practitioner, which was a few miles down the road. His wife also had a mini and so, if they did ever go out anywhere requiring a car to transport them as a family, they would have to take both cars. Because, despite being economical with their car choices, they hadn’t been quite so economical with their children; two biological sons, followed by two adopted sons.

Four boys and two adults do not fit into a Rover Mini!

That even included camping trips to west Wales, six hours’ drive away.

Yes, I said camping! With tents, bedding, cooking equipment, wet suits and clothing, all fitted into two Minis around the passengers.

My boyfriend was the second born of the two biological sons. And so, when his dad replaced this Mini with a newer model, he passed it onto any sons that needed it. To be shared!

My boyfriend was all up for rainbows and flowers

I guess the obvious reason why we were attracted to each other was that we both liked being a bit wacky and different. Clearly, for him, that was significantly more of a statement than for me, since heterosexual men don’t commonly flaunt such things, while women generally have more creative license to be…colourful — especially true in the nineties.

So, we got to work and had some great fun hand-painting these on.

And then came my birthday present

I went to visit my childhood friend, who I only saw occasionally by now. She saw the car and swooned.

Now, what you can’t see in the photo is a giant leaping frog, painted on the other side.

It was around the time of my birthday and she announced that she had always wanted to paint a leaping frog on a painted car, and could she please, please, pleeeease paint one on “mine”? Of course, I couldn’t turn down such a wonderful birthday gift now, could I?

Luckily my boyfriend thought it was great and we happily tootled about in this crazy car, unfazed.

Enter the younger brother

There was one person we had forgotten to consider in all of this — the younger brother of my boyfriend — who had a right to this car as well, should he need it.

If you remember, I mentioned that the younger two were adopted. Sadly, one had met with a fatal accident before I met my boyfriend.

Both of the adopted boys had been the sons of young black women from London. The circumstances of their mothers were unknown but they were clearly not in positions to raise their babies. My boyfriend’s very white, very middle-class, but very liberal parents, were chosen as the adopting parents.

The two boys grew up alongside their blond, pale-skinned older brothers in this white, middle-class area of Oxford, but found their tribe in the nearby neighbourhood where the coloured community was dominant. Ben, the elder of the two, and the one who died, had a great deal of street cred, with long dreadlocks and the most extensive collection of reggae vinyl. Anthony, the younger, lived in the shadow of Ben.

After Ben’s death, Anthony had worked harder to establish himself and his tribe. His street cred was of great importance to him, perhaps with the memories that Ben had left behind as a motivation to honour his late brother.

My boyfriend and I had been given priority over the Mini and its use. However, one day, his parents reminded us that if, on occasions, Anthony needed to use the car, we must let him since it wasn’t ours alone.

The day that Anthony found himself needing to go out in this ridiculous-looking Rover Mini was a very memorable day indeed. It was retold to us with a lot of colourful language by Anthony himself as he described his drive up the High Street in the centre of Oxford, with every little child and their mother pointing and waving, and the crowds of Japanese tourists squealing with delight.

That drive, for this cool lad already living out an odd cultural existence, was the drive of shame, if ever there was one.

Never again did he take that Mini out.

The end of the Mini tale

While our time with this little car lasted no more than a year, with plenty of life left in her, my boyfriend’s parents suggested passing her onto someone who could make use of her.

For some unknown reason, Anthony wasn’t volunteering.

She ended up going to live with a friend of mine who was studying at Edinburgh University, and being shared among a group of friends. They named her Myrtle and she became well-known among the student population of the city.

It was a sad day when we said goodbye to little Myrtle but the dear little car went on to have plenty more adventures before she finally met with her death at the scrapyard.

Thanks for reading my Myrtle story. Check this one out for more funny adventures:

Thanks to Gaurav Jain for this great prompt; A Picture Speaks a Thousand Words.

And now, for a different take on the “pictures” in our lives, check out this brilliant poem from Marilyn Glover.

If you aren’t yet a Medium member and would love to have unlimited access to read the work of all your favourite writers, please consider joining through my referral link.