Mustang Barbie — Baby, I Can Drive Your Car!

2,995 words

Mustang Barbie — Baby, I Can Drive Your Car!

(a grown-up fantasy)

Editor’s Note: They say some of the best things happen in cars. Whoever “they” are, they don’t know this story. It began 3 years ago, when Barbie’s driver’s license was just a twinkle in some director’s eye and there was no Oscar talk. See? Everything does come round again. Especially driving a cool car.

It happened one night, as these most magical things often do. The moon, oh dudes and dudettes, has a silver alchemy that turns everything special, with a wave of a wand of the wind. It waved over Beatrice Angelica (Bea Angel) and EmmyLouBleue (Bleue) Bear, happily owned, as much as anything can really ever be owned by anyone, especially teddy bears, by one daughter of the house, True Rose, and her faithful canine companion, Farfeldog. 

Farfeldog was of the herding variety, convinced the world was made of sheep, and all hers to schlep and keep. So when the bears and True Rose decided to venture out on their own, Farfeldog was quite perplexed and vexed. And, while not approving much (since it hadn't been her own idea), she did not want to be a poopmeister, which True Rose's family insisted on calling her. She would not stoop to call them back by names they did deserve, included in the “dogtionary.” Farfeldog had to tag along, with her bestie True Rose, to keep everyone in line. Because you just know how teddy bears are, even if they’re dressed in Victorian velvet. How naughty they can be, if left to their own ted-ddy-vices.

Until that night in December, they had all lived a regular, normal life together. Un-roadtripped. Made out of mostly sweet days in Oregon, in the household of True Rose’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Garden. Life was like a big buckwheat pancake, covered in wild blueberries and honey, served up by True Rose’s parents. But only Bea Angel, Bleue, True Rose, and sometimes Farfeldog are the ones who know what happened.

 On a full moon in Onwego, Oregon, Beatrice Angelica said to Emmyloubleue from her shelf in the bedroom near True Rose's fluff-pink-and-white canopied bed: “I have an idea. Follow me.”

They shimmied down the shelves and waddled off to Barbie doll’s big carnation-colored dream house in the corner of the bedroom. In the two-car garage of Barbie’s dreamy home were parked a faithful cherry-pink Jeep and a big blue Mustang convertible. While the bears (and their now-awakened friends faithful Farfeldog and True Rose) wanted to take both cars, they talked about the travel-worthiness of each ­­­— and of course, the coolness factor. Who wants to be seen about town in a dorky vehicle? It kills any chance of upward mobility. Everybody agreed they wanted to be waving to the crowds from the big blue Mustang. And wearing humongous sunglasses and perhaps throwing candy kisses and fanning themselves. But for right now, it was enough to just get out of town. In a dreamy muscle car. Without waking Barbie up. 

“Road trip!” Farfeldog the sparkledog yipped.

“Route 66!” Bea Angel rejoiced.

“National Lampoon's Vacation!” True Rose laughed.

“Wherever we go, there we are, and you know we can’t be without food,” Bleue pointed out.

“And a map,” added True Rose. 

They had a fine GPS-voice system in the Mustang, to help them find their way anywhere, if they knew where they were in the first place. 

“And we must leave a note for True Rose’s parents,” Bea Angel pointed out. “We don’t want them to worry.”

True Rose patted her furbaby. “What shall we say?” she asked.

“That we’ve gone to see America and we’ll be back the day after soon,” Farfeldog suggested.

“But where do we start from?”

“How about the Joy to the World Carousel? They’ve got lots of animals. And joy.”

The carousel was a tourist attraction right in their town of Onwego, Oregon, population yes. True Rose had been to the carousel once with her parents and always wanted to go back. 

“You can never have enough joy,” the Farfeldog barked, musically. “It’s like that song about having too much fun.”

“OK, who knows how to hot-wire a car?” asked True Rose. 

“I do! I do!” Farfeldog beamed and bounced. “What is it? Does it involve chasing and biting?”

“Um, not usually.”

The others looked around and shrugged. They mostly wanted to know if hot-wiring involved chewing and swallowing.

“OK, how about consulting the instruction manual? Daddy always says when all else fails...”

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! What is it?”

“Oh, Farfel! Your spirit of volunteerism is wonderful, but do be quiet please! There it is, on the front seat, next to Barbie's faux leather purse with a place for her peek-a-boo puppy."

True Rose retrieved the manual and began reading aloud to an attentive and increasingly mystified audience.

“Put Tab A into Slot B. Hmm,” she considered. “Have something to eat. Thank Barbie for all the good stuff. Blah, blah, blah. Then there’s a bunch of silly-symbol-looking thingies. Must be mechanic-talk."

Bea Angel, Bleue, and even Farfeldog high-fived. True Rose said they would have to cut out such displays of silly emotion, if they were going to be on the road as successful innocent non-enthusiastic tourista impersonators.

“All we need is pizza and a bath towel to be blasé impersonators. And maybe one of those swell sweaty white Elvis suits,” Farfel said.

“Hey, ladies,” True Rose interrupted. “Perhaps we don’t need to hot-wire this Mustang after all. I see Barbie left the keys in the ignition.”

“Aw, I wanted to hot-wire something! Can I do it to you?” Farfel asked Bleue.

“Ewww, no! And I’m glad Barbie’s such a klutz bimbo and we don't have to burgle too much. It ruins my disposition. She musta been in a hurry to get inside to change clothes. Is it cheerleader day or prom night?” 

“OK, eyes on the prize, fashionistas and fellow felonistas! We’ve got the car, the keys, credit cards and ID in the faux leather purse. Now all we need is our picnic-basket of snacks. Who can I trust to raid the refrigerator?”

All hands/paws went up. Farfel danced.

“Maybe that’s a task for the leader.” True Rose tapped her chin.

“We’ll look,” Bea Angel said, indicating herself and Bleue. “We’re gourmands and connoisseurs of the first resort. Or resnort.”

“I’ll guard the car.” Farfel had already scouted out her place to sit –– the driver’s seat –– and was working up a list of special road tunes. She liked them, liked them, yes she did. OWW, she growled in her best Wilson Pickett voice, Mustang Farfel! 

Farfel began sorting CD’s –– ­­gotta have the Beach Boys, “Blue Bayou –­– Bleu’s fave, “Ramblin’ Rose” and “The Yellow Rose of Texas” for True Rose, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” –– for guess who?, “I Am Woman” for their whole howling ensemble, “Calling All Angels” and “In the Arms of the Angels” for the two bears, “The Circle Game,” about the carousel of time, and of course, “Joy to the World,” about the noisy, joyful Jeremiah, who was a bullfrog, or was that a bulldog? A road trip revelanza with snacks. The following sing-along and totally listenable road tunes were as rockin’ to go as they were:

Springsteen’s “Born to Run”; Dylan’s “Like A Rollin’ Stone”; Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again”; Wilson Pickett’s “Mustang Sally,” obviously; Aretha’s jaunt on the uptown freeway of loooove in a “Pink Cadillac”; Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”; Tom Petty’s “Runnin' Down a Dream”; Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road Jack”; the Beatles’ “Drive My Car”; Rascal Flatt’s cover of “Life is a Highway”; Roger Miller’s “King of the Road”; Rihanna’s “Shut Up and Drive”; Beach Boys’ “Fun, Fun, Fun” and anything surfin-soundin; Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, just because; Sheryl Crow’s “Every Day is a Winding Road”; Don McLean’s “American Pie”; Chuck Berry’s “Route 66”; Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”; Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild”; Johnny Cash’s “I’ve Been Everywhere”; Pharrell Williams’ “Happy” and Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World”, with all the fishes and boys and girls and joy, unleashed. There was just soooo much happy. 

Humans had so much fun stuff and they probably didn’t even know it. The trunk and the hood popped open at the same time and Farfel felt like a Mustang sandwich. 

And who was that disembodied Siri person, anyway, who kept calling from the trunk and asking if she could help with something? Well doggone right, she could! Didn’t she ever listen? A large pizza, some vats of fries, a chunky chicken and waffles cake and some mashed potatoes ought to do it. But you just can't get good human help these days, Farfel sighed. 

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, in Barbie’s house, no less, Bea Angel and Bleue had discovered Barbie’s secret stash of peanut M & M’s and dark chocolate Milky Ways. They promptly plopped them into a recycle bag with Barbie’s photo on it and the motto: “I’m an original. But these old bags aren’t.” 

True Rose made her way back to the Mustang with her goody bag. She’d found the following magic items in her parents’ well-stocked kitchen: leftover pot roast, honey, melons, peanut butter, yoghurt, some KFC, and several loaves of bread and cinnamon rolls. How could they not rejoice? Life was a cafeteria. Wasn’t there a musical about that? There should be.

And just as True Rose would reach out for the door handle, imagine this! Farfel would punch the lock. When True Rose withdrew her hand, Farfel, laughing wildly, unlocked it. 

True Rose finally warned: "Farfeldog, open this door immediately, or we’ll eat all these truly awesome snacks!”

“Bow wow,” Farfel said, both huffily and apologetically, unlocking the doors and bowing to her mistress.

True Rose yanked the driver’s-side door open and pushed Farfel into the riding-shotgun slot. She insisted on everybody choosing a hat from the special hat bag she’d purloined.

Farfeldog was all in favor of hats. How many could she pile on at once? Could she fit both the Dolly Parton and the Marilyn Monroe wig and the Groucho glasses and mustache on together? Watch out, Kardashians! Here come the Car-ditzians!

Farfeldog chose a restrained yet ever-popular Indiana Jones slouch hat, joyfully pulling it from the bag with her teeth, and then putting it on at a rakish angle, using the rearview mirror to guide her. 

Bea Angel modeled a backwards Broncos baseball cap; Bleue sleuthed in a Humphrey Bogart fedora. And True Rose, always the free bird, sported an aviator cap and sunglasses.

True Rose had thoroughly researched the Teddy Bear Encyclopedia and found a teddy bear company that produced Amelia Bearhart, who came complete with aviator suit, silk scarf, and cap. This is the look True Rose was going for, even as the captain driver of a motor vehicle.

Perhaps, True Rose thought, finding Amelia Earhart or her plane could be their next big adventure. Everybody seemed to be looking for her now. 

Perhaps a famous company would honor True Rose’s Road Trip Gals in some way, and they could then dispense happiness and goodies everywhere. There was no excuse not to believe in bears in cars. Wow, what you could do, from behind the wheel of Barbie’s blue Mustang! Everything possible, start your engines!

True Rose settled herself behind the wheel that would take them spinning through the adventure of the rest of their lives. She turned the key in the ignition, gunned the motor, reached reverse after a few tries, and narrowly missed clobbering Barbie’s mailbox.

“But first, we’ll do a test drive around the house,” True Rose insisted. “And then, it’s hat’s off and to the races!”

“I thought we had to wear our hats,” Bleue said. “A Carmen Miranda fruit hat would be nice right about now. I could even calypso dance with a nice banana or mango.”

Soon, the four friends found themselves out on the city streets in a zooming Mustang. They were mean, those streets. But fortunately, uncrowded. Little traffic flowed under the bulbous full moon.

‘Hey, are we there yet?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m tired.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Haven’t we been circling for hours? I think I've seen that same fire hydrant 15 times!”

“You just want to stop and water it!”

“It looks like on the map it’s 10 bazillion miles to the caroling carousel. I think we’ve gone 9 bazillion. And counting. Take that next intersection.”

The next intersection was, unfortunately, a roundabout, which kept them going in circles quite awhile. 

Finally, ahead they saw carousellight, which is kind of like a daylight in itself. The sun rose in their eyes, as they gazed upon the magic of Joy to the World and its animal compatriots. They had arrived! Immigrants at All Us Island. With their bags of snacks and fancy hats.

"You know, there's something about a carousel," True Rose sighed. She tried not to ram into it as she parked the big blue Mustang. She was busy staring at a most beguiling carved dolphin. “Even humans are mesmerized and not immune.”

“Who cares about them? People — they’re the worst! Poo and pass the chips,” Farfel ordered.

“You know, we did this. All ourselves, together,” True Rose said. "Which is kind of magical, too.”

“There are magical elements to many things, if we listen,” Bea Angel said.

“Yes, I’ve noticed there’s scientific proof that animals improve your mental health,” True Rose agreed.

“Maybe we’ll know, after the viruses are all gone and we can go back to normal life, how much we need each other and what we can do to help?” Bea Angel asked, concerning the recent state of human health worldwide. And just humans in general.

Farfel growled and pawed an enthusiastic, “Yes! Yes! I can do that! What is it?”

They sat for a moment, considering the carousel. Then, they sprang from the car in a jumble, and ran to choose their favorite carved carousel animal to ride, from anemones to zebras. True Rose found the lights, music, and action to generate the circling, swirling creatures and turned the whole experience into enlightenment.

She chose a swan; for Bea Angel, it was an angel; Farfel rode a grinning dolphin; and Bleue tackled an especially elegant elephant.

They went round and round, changing places and animals — lions, giraffes, horses, zebras, tigers, whales, clamshells, mermaids. Each more exotic and magical than the last. Sometimes, they’d get off and wave to the others and then hop back on. They took photos. And shared snacks. They tried feeding the animals. And decided they were sad creatures, because of their enforced labor. Had anybody asked them what they wanted to be when they grew up? Did they have a choice, or voice, about anything? Where was their joy to the world, their freedom? It was all good and well to provide happiness to others, but what about your own, True Rose wondered.

The four friends eyed the wondrous carousel creatures and asked them, "Would you like to be set free?"

An incredible cacophony ensued. You could not deny those voices. The horses whinnied; the elephants harrumphed with their trunks; the dolphins and whales blew through their blowholes and sang their ocean songs; the lions and tigers roared approval; the mermaids whispered silkily; the giraffes and zebras gamboled and pranced.

So the trick was going to be how to spring these lovely creatures from their joyful prismed prison. Could they stuff any of them into Barbie’s Mustang?

“How do we get from here to there?” True Rose posed the question. “We have to unlock them, herd them to a safe place, and then replace them — with carved humans to ride. We all have to pitch in and help each other. Animals usually do, anyway, once they understand the situation, and to keep the species going. Even if they don’t like each other very much. They know what it takes to get along in the world.”

“Barbie’s Mustang! And a big snack!” Farfel whuffled.

The four friends started working to free the first creature — an elephant, who was so wildly overjoyed at the prospect that he couldn’t stop patting them with his trunk. They unscrewed sockets and climbed and unpulled plugs and took the pole and saddle from him. When he was free, they let him try out his land legs. They led him to the next animal, a dolphin, who smiled at them as if they were the magical creatures. On around the circle they went, with each freed creature joining in to help the next tethered on the carousel, until all were assembled loosely on the platform. They joined together in song: “Jeremiah was a bulldog!” Then, they headed to Mr. Bones’ carousel-carving farm, to help create the human carousel.

“Stay safe, my friends!” True Rose said. Which is about the best advice to give or get nowadays.

She turned off the carousel lights and music. The Road Trip Gals’ job was done. Except for getting back home. She’d think about that whenever.

 “Yes,” True Rose chimed in. “I envision a world of revolving humans.”

“How about a Mustang?” Farfel wanted their joyride to be memorialized.

“Everybody will want a ride on this merry-go-round,” Bea Angel predicted.

They were on their way to happily ever after, as much as could be. The road-trip crew was heading home, to a place of safe and happy and snuggly, with dreams to come. They had done good, and they knew it. With snacks.

The quietly grazing former carousel animals raised their heads and tails in salute, as the big blue Mustang passed by, wending its way toward home. Farfel waved her hat in return.

Once home, Farfeldog rolled over and gave Mrs. Garden a high five. Then Mrs. Garden left to fix the breakfasts she knew everybody would greet as if they hadn’t eaten in days and had been busy driving all night.

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