In case some of my newer readers haven't figured it out, Harvey is my car. He is a 1988 Buick century that I've had for two years, and the inspiration for my web address (the rest of it is that some people call me Nellie, hence Nellie's Harvey, shortened to nellsharvey.) Harvey's part of a lot of my stories, and he deserves to have his told.
My first car was a green Taurus, creatively named the Taurinator by my sister. It was a decent car, but after I, uh, put it out of commission, my grandfather reclaimed the Buick he still owned from my uncle and gave it to me. He thought I'd be safer in a bigger car anyway. Much of Harvey's former life had been spent living quietly in the mountains, never having to use the A.C., getting a brand-new engine, his biggest challenge going up the hill every day. But now, he was mine.
Everyone asks me, why Harvey? And the answer is, I don't know any better than you do. I knew he was a male, but what to call him? I toyed with Vernon, after both my grandfather and uncle, but decided three Vernons would be too confusing. And then one day it just came to me- Harvey. I think that was his name all along, it's just that no none had ever listened. So we settled into a comfortable existence. I got used to driving a behemoth of a car, and Harvey got used to being driven by a girl. But I was soon to find out how strong a character he really was.
Halloween 2003. I'd already promised my friends Katie and Meka that they could go with me to Janna's party. Enter Meka's obnoxious friend Brandon from high school- "No, Meka, y'all can all come and we'll do him a costume." Driving down the interstate to Party City, Brandon in the backseat with Katie, complaining about everything "You drive too slow. Where are we? What kind of music is this anyway?" "It's my car, and I like Christian music." And then the Christian music starts getting louder. Well, maybe it's just a big moment in the song. But then louder...and louder...and louder. Finally Brandon can't take it. "Stop doing that! Why are you DOING that?" I smile smugly and say, "I'm not touching it." Meka chimes in, "Yeah, Brandon, she's not doing it." I repeat, "I'm not touching it. The car just doesn't like you."
That effectively sealed the deal, and Harvey has proven himself to be a fierce defender- heaven forbid someone else tries to drive him. Logic would seem to say that I would want a newer car, maybe with some nice features like a CD player. Or a cupholder. But this one's mine, and anyone who knows me, knows he's mine. And those who don't, well, they probably think it belongs to some old Republican dude and are usually surprised to see a cute innocent girl behind the wheel. But I don't care. Cause as long as we last, Harvey and I, we'll be rolling through life together.