Learning how to Parent Charle, my 2009 Mini Cooper Clubman
When I was little, I wanted to be a snow scientist and drive a fast car. Like most people, I did not live up to my impressive childhood ambitions. Instead, I work at a trucking company and am a proud parent to Charle.
Charle is my 2009 Mini Cooper Clubman. He was my first car and my first experience with parenthood.
In 2009, my mother called Mini Cooper of San Francisco and said something along the lines of this: “I want your funkiest car with no options at all. Oh, and I want it brown and with racing stripes.” A handful of months later, she was the proud owner of Charle.
Charle is no ordinary car. He has three passenger doors, a barn-door trunk, and an engine from BMW and Peugeot. Instead of calling it “day-old coffee,” Mini Cooper proudly named his brown complexion “Hot Chocolate Metallic.” While technically not a wagon, it’s the closest archetype Charle resembles.
Charle may look a bit abnormal from the outside, but he gets even quirkier on the inside. Everything is bulbous and out of place, from the gigantic speedometer in the middle of the car to the window switches under the A/C controls. While there is some adjustable mood lighting in the door wells and rear seats, Charle’s bright orange screens and dashboard lighting give a distinct retro feel. That retro style extends to his noticeable lack of features, as all you get is a radio and A/C.
What Charle lacks in features, he surely does not make up in speed. With 118 horsepower, Charle sounds like he is about to perish anytime you need to merge onto a highway or ascend a hill. And if you push him too hard, he rewards you with the scent of burnt oil.
Like any teenager with a new license, heavy foot, and first car, I smelled Charle’s burnt oil quite regularly. He may have been slower than a Prius, but he felt like a rocket ship under my control.
However, once my ownership responsibilities set in, my relationship with Charle began to transition from friendship and joy rides to parenthood and maintenance. From checking his fluids and changing his oil, I had to take care of Charle. And like getting a kid dressed for school, I would spend hours detailing him to look as clean as possible.
Charle was a good car until he wasn’t. As he entered his sullen teenage years, taking him away from his home environment clearly upset him. Once I took him to college, he began to rebel. ‘Check Engine’ was his new favorite slang to toss around. Over one year, I took four trips to various mechanics. I had to replace his brakes, coolant pipe, thermostat, timing chain, and O2 sensors.
I told Charle that the next issue that popped up would be his last. As much as I loved him, his repair bills could have sent an actual teenager to college. He responded by leaving me stranded in a Target parking lot the following week.
Like any burnt-out parent, I gave in to his demands (a brand-new starter) and immediately forgave him for his behavioral issues. However, I reckon he sensed that this was the final straw, as he has been on his best behavior for 1.5 years ever since.
Owning a car for an extended period will inevitably involve some sentimentality. But what I didn’t anticipate was resurfaced memories of those around me. While I may have grown up in this car, my best friends had also gone through elementary school in this car. So when I rolled up in Charle for the first time, it was a blast to the past for them. One of my friends quickly got into the backseat and began reminding me of all the ‘love marks’ I had left Charle as a child. The sharpie mark across the passenger seat, the Swiss army knife stab wound in the headliner, and the Altoid tin that served as booger storage (according to him). Charle wasn’t just a quirky brown machine but a house of memories for over a decade’s worth of drives to school, sleepover transportation, and weekend road trips.
At the end of the day, cars are machines. Their purpose is to take us from point A to point B. Yet, after thousands of miles, hours, and memories, we can forge an unexpected bond with these metal companions. Charle won’t be around forever, but I will always appreciate all the time I’ve spent with him. He may be quirky, slow, and mechanically troublesome, but he’s undeniably mine, and I’ll always cherish him for it.
