I like pink. I am really not the pinkish girly type but I think pink is a color everyone should adopt and bring into his or her life in one form or another. Usually the color pink is found in the world of fashion – pink ties, pink shirts, pink stilettos, pink tank tops, pink hair ribbons or pink lipstick. In my rather edgy world I invited the color pink to my everyday live the way I saw fit.
I had no pink lipstick – butI had a pink race bike. I bought this bike from an ex-national champion and it had the classic HONDA race colors of red-white and blue. It was a hot bike from the beginning but just too dull for my taste and in the spirit of self promotion and attracting sponsorship possibilities I had it painted in sizzling hot pink. It was a girly bike all right and that was what gave the racing scene the edge. Which guy wouldn’t want to chase a pink bike??? You tell me.
Many years later when my path carried me down south to live in sprawling Mexico City, I found the perfect car for me in the midst of 20 million other cars racing around that place. The same way I found my boyfriend Juan down there in the midst of 25 million inhabitants – but this is an entirely different story.
I decided to play it cheap and found an old, classic, remodeled Volkswagen Beetle (year 1978) – in fluorescent pink.
When I saw it for the first time, I knew that this vehicle would be my loyal companion throughout my stay in México. I had to hand it to Alberto, the man and previous owner who uninhibitedly created such eye candy in a predominantly ridiculing machismo culture. He sold it to me. I was the perfect person to come along as the white and tall “gringa” chick. So, I ended up driving around Mexico City in stylish pink. Chapters 18 and 19 of the book are talking about live in México.
My pink Volkswagen and I were inseparable. It carried me every day to work and through all my travels across the whole country. It survived bad gasoline, pot holes on the streets of the size of crater lakes, many flat tires, a number of fender benders, it was my shelter when nothing else was available, it protected us from the monsoon rainfalls when stuck in the Mexican rainforests and it was stripped and broken into so many times – I was surprised it was never completely stolen.
I cherished it and I loved it. I never would have given up on its spirit but a rude awakening forced me to part with it a lot earlier than I ever wanted to. With all its imperfections and age, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, it caught on fire due to a short circuit and burned down to the ground. All I had left was the carcass of a Volkswagen beetle, torched by a sea of ugly flames and spit out as a pile of pinkish/black stinking debris.
My loyal companion, my beloved pink Volkswagen had died a tragic death, left beyond recognition or any hope of repair. I sold it in parts for 1500 Mexican pesos. It was a great car.