Meet our smallest car yet, which we nicknamed the blue go-cart. Luckily Justin is on a golf trip in Tennessee this week, because it is doubtful that he’d fit in this vehicle. The Ford Focus is a spitfire of a car, hitting 40 MPH (the speed limit, of course) in just a few seconds flat on the country back roads between Oxford and Cincinnati. While some find the bright blue obnoxious, it makes me want to jump in and head to the gym for a high intensity work out. I guess blue is the new motivational color. I won’t go so far as to say it increases mood by stimulating blood flow to your hippocampus or any of that junk, but it is a beautiful shade. I am also excited about the crème leather seats, after many cars of black interiors. Less hot, less creepy. I know most people think black is sleek, but crème is sleeker.
One Little Glitch
That being said, I don’t have the keyless entry (Is that what the beepers are called these days?) into this car, making every time I get in a race against the clock. It goes like this: insert key, the timer starts. Literally. The burglar alarm is enabled and you have about five seconds to get your purse, drink and sunglasses in and start it up before all hell breaks loose–in the form of an obnoxious alarm. Heaven forbid you also have a shopping bag to put in the back seat. There’s no stealing this thing. The interesting part is just when you think you have it down, it seems to up the ante and give you just three seconds. Then the next time it relaxes down to ten seconds. This results in a few awkward “Apologies, Mom, no I can’t open the trunk because I have to start the car first.” The moral of the story? Get a beeper.
Before Justin left town, he took me to Kona in our new ride, one of the gems on High Street that offers healthy, sometimes Mediterranean cuisine in Oxford. Nothing new so far—a nice lunch. But, then humidity in the restaurant led me to ask about the patio, which I’d never seen. The hostess led us to a small Italy-inspired outdoor section, where everyone was sipping wine and slowly grazing on three course lunches. It was a nice surprise, and it’s rare to be surprised in a small town with one main street and two nice restaurants. The driving and dining didn’t end there…
Mother’s day began in the “go-cart” by heading up the highway toward Lebanon’s Breakfast Club. My mom and I utilized the most highways possible because, if you have any tendencies for motion sickness (which we both do), this is not the car for winding and weaving through backgrounds. It corners beautifully, but is so close to the ground that it resembles the swirling tea cup ride at Disney World (anyone remember that mess?) So, I-75 it was.
We arrived at the Breakfast Club, along with about 80 other Mother’s Day celebrators. Among the adorable parts of this restaurant is the fact that there is no hostess—on the honor’s system you sign yourself in on a standard ole’ steno pad. Last name, number in your party. An hour later (if it’s Sunday morning), you get called.
In the meantime, we discussed the Belgian waffles and mother’s day plans with a friendly Lebanon man with five children. He called them their majors: “Well, fashion design just got back from London, etc.” He was a testament to the personality of Lebanon.
Afterwards, we made our way under the highway toward the new Goodwill store, which is nothing less than the finest Snooty Fox consignment shop around. Everything was 50 percent off for mothers over 50 (sorry for telling, Mom). But it was worth the summer purses we found for $2 each.
Free Day in Oxford
The day after Mother’s day in Oxford is unofficially seniors’ moving day. This translates into thousands of twenty-two year olds throwing stuff out of their house—into their vehicles, and onto the curbs. It’s like a huge garage sale without prices. So, the blue go-cart was tested on this day. Would it be able to hold all of the trinkets and furniture that people set out for others to take? Luckily the small size of the trunk and back seat limited the amount of stuff I could bring home that day—Justin, you can thank the Focus later. I managed a tiny, antique bedside table and a silver-framed mirror that was like new. It barely fit across the back seat, so future Focus buyers should be aware that it’s not meant to haul anything other than a gym bag. It’s just meant to get you there.
But it sure does that well.
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