GUEST POST: Ginger Calem – Remeber your first car?

After last weeks very fun blog awards I am excited to say that today I have a guest post from one of the very people I awarded: Ginger Calem. If you haven’t had a chance to check out her blog yet, you are about to discover just what you have been missing.

Ginger lives in Texas where she and her husband own a CrossFit strength and condition gym. She is also a writer of “humorous mystery and YA with a kiss of paranormal”. Just this week she started an initiative that joins these two passions called WritersButt. This project is all about helping us writers (and anyone else for that matter) get off our butts and do something about our physical health. She has done a lot of research which shows that the physical activity will ultimately aid us in our creative output rather than steal time away from writing. It is something well worth checking out.

Now on to her post, which I think we can pretty much all relate to. Get ready for a trip down memory lane (for those of us old enough anyway) as Ginger talks about her first car.

Remember your first car?

Do you remember your first car? I know I do and I’d be willing to bet that most of you all do as well. Before I get to what my first car looked like, let me ask you something else, did you get your first car at 16, right when you got your license? The reason I ask is that we are approaching a big milestone in our family. Our oldest child is approaching his 16^th birthday and you can imagine what his single, zeroed-in, focus is on.

His First Car!

An example of a typical conversation with #1 as I shuttle him to his engagements:

Son: Did you see that?

Mom: What? Where?

Son: That car you just passed.

Mom: Was the driver texting and driving? Can you read the license plate?

Son: No.

Mom: Did they have a toddler not properly restrained in a car seat? Man, that makes me so mad.

Son: Mom, no, did you see the car? That car is legit.

*note: Legit does not refer to its legal road status, although we can hope.

Even though many of his friends who have turned 16 did in fact get their own car for their birthday, some of them NEW cars (what the what???), we have explained that doesn’t always happen. He may have to use his dad’s car, or perhaps mine. Oh, the horror in his eyes when faced with the idea of driving a ‘Mom-Car’! I might have uttered something about beggars can’t be choosers and his feet can get him places.

But this got me thinking back to my first car. I did share my mom’s car for a while. I had to drive my sister around too and run errands, but I didn’t care. I was driving! But soon, it was time for me to get my own set of wheels. One day we saw an old Volvo parked in our neighborhood with a For Sale sign. It was a 1977 Volvo. It had mustard yellow paint and dark brown interior and I loved it! It was $1500 and my mom, dad and I all split it. I named it The Pineapple.

(Not my actual car–can’t find photos–must organize garage–another blog post!)

That car drove great and it was safe. It did develop one idiosyncrasy. The driver’s door handle stopped opening from the outside. This meant that I had to unlock the passenger side, lean through and push the door open and run back around. OR—what usually happened is that I got in the passenger side and climbed over the center consol in my mini-skirt that matched my big 80’s hair and tassle boots. (I know you’re all glad I couldn’t find a picture!)

I had a friend who had a bright orange Thing! Man, that car was ‘legit’, let me tell you!

I think the best first car ever was my best friend Kimberly’s. She had an old tan Karmann Ghia. Sure, it sounds all cool, and trust me, it was. But it had a few idiosyncrasies of its own. First, it stalled ALL the time. Our high school was up on a huge hill and you had to inch your way up with all your classmates. When your car stalled on the way up that hill, everyone knew and they are all watching you get going again. To this day I swear that was the best practice on learning to drive a standard anyone could get.

But the really unique feature of her car was that the driver’s door wouldn’t stay closed. A hard right turn and the door would fly open. We felt the safest solution to this was to bungee cord the door handle to the emergency break. Sure, if she turned REALLY sharp, the door would still fly open but it slammed back pretty fast. Safety first, people!

(note, Kim’s car had WAY more character than this show-off, snazzy version!)

Our cars were part of who we were. We drove them loaded down with our friends to our off-campus lunch. We took them to the beach. Yes, we drove them more than a few times down to the border of Mexico for a night of well-behaved frivolity in Tijuana. Ah, the memories!

I think your first car needs to have some bumps and bruises. It should be safe, without a doubt, but a showcase car it should not be! First cars are the makings of stories and memories. It’s a right of passage and the more character and quirkiness the better!

So, as I negotiate this first car milestone with my son, I want to hear about YOUR first cars. I know there are some great stories out there. Take a trip back to your teenage years and the feeling of getting behind your own set of wheels, freedom calling your name … and tell us all about it!

* * *

Thank you so much, Ginger, for that fabulous post! My first car was a red 1994 Toyota Celica. It had been my sister’s first car when she turned 16 and when I finally got around to the driving age (6 years later) she was purchasing her second car. I happen to have to most amazing sister in the world and, rather than trade her Celica in, she gave it to me. It was fully paid off and still ran great. That car lasted a very long time, but finally cranked for the last time a few years ago.

Be sure to connect with Ginger over at her blog and on twitter (after you tell us about your own first car, that is ).

A Nerd Fantasy Becomes a Reality

My long time love affair with all things fantasy and historical has resulted in me having a strange fascination with archery. From Robin Hood to the elves in Lord of the Rings to battles fought in ancient times, archery has become romanticized in my mind. It was natural, then, for it to play a significant role in my own writing. Armed with the excuse that it was research for my novel I began to learn everything I could about archery. I researched the different types of bows, the parts of arrows, which peoples in history utilized each kind, how far each bow could shoot, the proper technique for shooting – I learned it all. And my fingers began to itch for my very own bow.

Somehow I was blessed with an amazing husband who pays attention to the strange things that his nerdy wife wants and, even more impressive, encourages the pursuit of those strange desires. So what does he do? He gets me my very own recurve bow for Christmas!

After I opened it he told me that all of our friends thought he was crazy when he told them what he had gotten me. No one believed that I really wanted it – they thought it was really a gift he wanted for himself. It hasn’t taken long for everyone to realize how wrong their assumptions were. Of course, when everyone finds out why I wanted a bow they laugh and look at me as though I have grown a second head. I guess people still don’t realize what a true and utter nerd I am.

I have now been out a few times to shoot and I love it even more than I could have imagined. My husband set up a shooting range for us (he has since gotten a compound bow) in a fenced off wooded area on his parent’s property. It’s incredible. I feel like I am in Sherwood forest or Lothlorien when I am out there.

I haven’t gotten to shoot nearly as often as I would like, but enough that I have learned the importance of proper technique, such as keeping the arm holding the bow slightly bent.

After about an hour of shooting I was already getting a blister on one of my fingers and had popped myself on the arm with the bow string, so we went to buy me some protection. I got a nice arm guard and a special glove that would protect the three fingers I use to shoot. With my new protection I was ready to go. Apparently I was also tired. I started locking my arm with the result of popping myself on the inner edge of my elbow – an area not protected – four times. It hurt. Badly.

The next time I went out I made sure to always keep my arm slightly bent and I made it through nearly two hours of shooting without once popping myself. Yay me! And, even better, I was already improving. I still can’t hit the specific spot I’m aiming for, but at least I am starting to hit the target nearly every time – even if it is only from ten yards. Hey, I’ll take it. I gotta start somewhere, right?

Needless to say, I have a new obsession hobby. I can not wait until the next time I can get out there and pretend that I am Maid Marian or Arwen. Now all I need is a sword and shield.

Have you ever tried archery? Do you have any strange things that you are interested in (or normal things for strange reasons)? Let me know in the comments.

There was a bee. I swear!

I’m getting better

Robin Hood: The Man Beneath the Hood

As I mentioned before, my series looking at some of the characters from Harry Potter has concluded and today I am going to be starting a new series. I had an idea for what I wanted this next series to be about, but recent events have caused me to change my mind. In light of the fabulous recurve bow I received for Christmas and my newfound archery skills, I have decided to do a series on the most famous archer there is: Robin Hood.

The Man Beneath the Hood

I doubt there is anyone who has not heard the name Robin Hood and some version of his story. Over the centuries his story has morphed and grown with each retelling. Today, most of us know him as a noble turned outlaw who lived in the Sherwood forest where he and his merry men would steal from the rich to give to poor. But how much of the legend is true? Did Robin Hood really exist and if so who was he?

Historians and scholars have been seeking the answers to these questions for years and none have been able to come up with any definitive answers. One of the earliest written records of a candidate for the famous outlaw comes from the year 1225. In an assize from York there is an entry for a Robert Hod, fugitive who had chattels worth 32 shillings and 6 pence. This same entry is included later with the addition of the nickname “Hobbehod”. Other than the name and the fact that he was an outlaw, there is nothing to connect Robert to the Robin Hood of legend.

Most of the other records of men with names that could be considered a variation of Robin Hood have something else that seems to disqualify them. Many of them were not actual outlaws and others appeared at a time too late to be considered serious candidates. There is evidence that the name Robin Hood was symbolic of outlaws as early as 1261 when an outlaw by the name of William son of Robert le Fevere is referred to in an official document as William Robehod. There are even some who believe that the name was never anything more than a symbol that various outlaws wore as a mantle. If he was a real man, though, the account of William Robehod seems to support the idea that he was around during the time of King Richard and Prince John or an even earlier time in history.

I am certainly no historical scholar, but it seems to me that if Robin Hood was based on a real person it was probably a compilation of multiple people. Thankfully, the people who are actual historical scholars agree with me. Score one for me.

There was a man named Hereward the Wake who was an outlaw in the time of William the Conqueror and fought against the Normans. Two centuries later Eustace the Monk left the monastery and became an outlaw. He began his career in the forest, but later moved to the Channel where he led a fleet of pirates. Around the same time as Eustace one of the more interesting candidates came on the scene.

Fulk fitz Warrin was a baron from Shropshire who had been a childhood playmate of Prince John. Beginning in the year 1200 he spent three years living as an outlaw in the forest after which time he was pardoned. It seems, though, that Fulk enjoyed the life of rebellion. In the year 1215 he left the king’s peace and joined the rebellion of barons who supported the Magna Carta.

On the surface, these three men may seem to have very little to do with Robin Hood, but there are many parallels between some of the things they are reported to have done and the stories of Robin Hood. Things like adopting the same disguises as Robin, such as a potter, and rewarding those waylaid for displays of honesty can be attributed to these men. It is also speculated that the idea of the displaced noble could have stemmed from Fulk.

There are many other names throughout the centuries that have been claimed by some to be connected to legendary outlaw. Whether or not any of them are the actual inspiration for the legend is not yet known, but it is fascinating to look through the possible candidates. And who knows, maybe one day the crucial piece of evidence will be found that definitively ties one of these men, or someone we don’t even know about yet, to the outlaw of Sherwood forest.

What are your thoughts on the search for the real Robin Hood? Do you believe he was a real person or a compilation of people? Or do you think that he was never anything more than a symbol with no historical counterpart? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.