The Tale of the Pee Green Pinto Station Wagon

I remember when my mother turned fifty. I was eighteen and my sister was twenty-three. My father decided that we should do something really special so he made reservations at the Beverly Hills Hotel for dinner...in the fancy restaurant not the Polo Lounge. It was July of 1979 and my father drove a lime green Ford Pinto Station Wagon with faux wood paneling. It was atrocious and he loved it! Once he was stopped at a red light and the guy in the car next to him recognized him, "Hey! Aren't you that guy from Green Acres?" he yelled across at him. My father was playing it cool and modestly said, "well, yes, I am." The guy then got a confused look on his face and said "Then why are you driving a Pinto?" Classic. We never let him forget it. My sister and I begged my father not to take the Pinto to the Beverly Hills Hotel. We were embarrassed to ride in that car to the supermarket let alone Beverly Hills, but he refused. "They'll get a kick out of it!" he said, trying to persuade us, but we weren't buying it. So we all piled into the green Pinto station wagon, in our fancy clothes with all the birthday presents neatly arranged in a Neiman Marcus shopping bag. At least we could show that we had some taste. We pulled up in the driveway and stopped for the Valet. My sister and I tried to act sophisticated, but it was just so humiliating. If I had paid better attention, I think I would have noticed that only did no one really care, the Valet was really nice and happily drove the car as far away as I'm sure he possibly could have! So off we go in to the beautiful lobby of the Beverly Hills Hotel, each step me and my sister are shedding the Pinto vibe and walking just a little bit more confident now that the car is safely out of eye shot. We arrive at the restaurant and it is old classic Beverly Hills. The maitre'd was at the door and welcomed us into a very elegant dining room. Obviously, he did not see what we drove up in because he treated us like royalty. He grabbed the Neiman Marcus bag and led us into the room. I think it was done in pale pink with a big circular booth in the center that sectioned in four separate booths each facing out into the main room. This was where you sat to see and be seen. Again, we were feeling pretty special as he sat us down at one of these booths. Just as we got to the booth the Neiman Marcus bag with all our beautifully wrapped gifts made a terrific ripping sound and tore apart like a trailer in a tornado, cascading the gifts all over the floor. We froze, all eyes upon us as. Did I have a sign on my head that read "Arrived in pee green Pinto"? The maitre'd didn't skip a beat, "Neiman Marcus?" he said, as if "I can't believe Neiman Marcus makes such crappy bags!" After that, we settled in and had the most wonderful meal. It was special, like what a 50th birthday should be. We were having such a great time that I couldn't care less what sort of transportation brought me here. We all walked out feeling rich in so many ways. Rich in family, rich in memories and rich in thought as we waited for the Valet to get the car, juggling the presents in our arms, surrounded by Rolls Royce, Mercedes, BMWs and the like. Then up come the Pinto. As the Valet got out of the car he said to my dad, "Hey Man! Do you have a Rolls Royce engine in this car because it drives like a dream!" And there you have it. Happy Birthday to my dad, who's birthday wasn't until December, but it totally made his year. We laughed the whole way home and I still get a chuckle when I think about the sincere look on that guys face that he thought someone who had a lot money would buy a crappy Pinto Station Wagon and put a Rolls Royce engine in it. God bless him and my dad for giving us so much to laugh about.