It's not very often that you hear about women in the "car scene." It is a mans world after all, or so they say. I mean sure, you see women pose on a couple cars, take a few pictures, blast them on social media and after a while they start calling themselves car chicks. But, that's not what a true gear head really is now is it?
I didn't plan to fall in love with cars, it wasn't my passion. But, ever since I can remember, my parents had a 1979 Chevrolet Corvette. That thing; even though it was rough around the edges and was somewhat neglected, she still turned heads. Every time we drove around town in it people would stop us and ask if she was up for sale. Fuck no she's not, move it along people.
My father didn't have much time to work on her, so she sat out in the sun for years... slowly deteriorating. Her paint began to get sun burned, the interior was basically falling apart, everything under the hood needed a lot of TLC, and don't get me started on what was going on underneath the car... it looked awful. Animals eventually made it its home down there. The brakes didn't work either, you had to hit the brakes like a mile before you even got near the actual stop sign... yeah, I know that's pretty dangerous but hey! I was only about 10 years old at the time. What the hell was I suppose to know? LOL. Worst part of it all... the A/C didn't work, so you can imagine how damn terrible it was to drive when the sun peaked in Texas. Hotter than 2 rats fuckin' in a wool sock I'd say.
Anyway, she was a mess. After my dads unfortunate passing, it only got worse. I was only 12 when he died so I didn't know jack shit about anything. But, I did know one thing. I knew that the Corvette was more than just a car. When her engine rumbled, it felt more like my dads heart began to beat again. Stronger and more powerful than ever before. The car meant the world to me and it still does. So, you can imagine my rage when my family decided it was time to sell it. I was 18 by then; I had my own money, and I had more time resources to finally work on it. So you bet your sweet ass I wasn't about to let this car slip away from me. I begged my mother to let me keep it rather than sell it. She agreed, and she even had the title to the car transferred to my name. The Corvette was finally legally and officially mine. I was thrilled... and that is when my journey began.
I didn't know squat about cars, so I reached out for help whenever I could find it. I met some pretty awesome people along the way that generously showed me the ropes. They were patient with me and explained everything to me, that way I learned in the process and would be able to repair it if anything were to happen to it again. Eventually, working on cars turned into an addiction. I wanted to learn more, add more, customize more, swap motors and what not. I just wanted more.
Now, that I am 22 years old, and the mother to a beautiful 5 month old daughter, the progress on the car has slowed a bit, it hasn't stopped though. She's a garage princess and gets worked and driven on every other weekend or so. She's healthy, oh boy is she healthy. We have some new parts that we can't wait to install on her; so much more is coming. I only look forward to the day that I can work on cars with my baby girl, and teach her all that I've learned. I've been blessed and I continue to be blessed. I only hope that in somewhere along the road I managed to make someone in heaven proud.
I decided one day to name her Cleo, short for Cleopatra. I know its not a tough or mean name, and a Corvette like mine only deserves to have an aggressive name. But the significance of the name is what sealed the deal. It means, "her fathers glory," which is pretty damn near perfect for me... Anyhow, stay tuned... there's more comin.'