The Whomobile was a 1978 Oldsmobile Delta 88 rustbucket my dad  purchased in 1984. By the time I got around to driving it in 1985, its roof was covered with Bondo to fill the gaping wounds that allowed water to drain into the passenger seats. One spring day, during the end of my sophomore year, I asked my father if I could paint a flag on the roof of the car. The idea was a whim and I doubted he would agree. To my surprise, he asked which flag.

Visions of “Dukes of Hazzard” filled my head and I suggested the Confederate flag. He immediately said “no.” You see, he had taught in Georgia during the ’60s, and the racism he saw firsthand still left a sour taste in his mouth. That flag was an ugly reminder of the past and he wasn’t about to drive around town with it painted on his car. Thinking fast, I spat out “How about the Union Jack?” He thought a moment. “The flag of England?” I shrugged, sure. He curled his lower lip in approval and simply said, “okay.” It took me a couple of weeks to complete the paint job. It wasn’t perfect, but close enough. The Whomobile was born.

I have to give credit to my close friend, Sally, who gave the car its name. For more than a year, that rusting piece of metal on four wheels drove through town with the Union Jack and the question, “Who Are You?” painted in 12-inch letters on the trunk. My dad never complained or asked me to cover it up; I personally believe he got a kick out of being seen in it. Perhaps it made him cool. I’d like to go on to describe the many crazy adventures that took place in the Whomobile, but the truth is, there weren’t that many. Mostly, it was “the car,” a symbol of individually amongst my friends. It was a part of my image and became a symbol of who I was. And yes, I liked the thought of being perceived “cool.” Trust me, I was not. (more…)