Pimp My Ride: Kentucky Style

I try really hard to dispel the notion that all Kentuckians are rednecks. Despite my best efforts to act like a refined, poised human being there are times when the Hula-gen’s are in the middle of doing something so hick that I hear the strains of Dueling Banjos in my ears. We joke a lot about being the Clampett’s and every now and then we actually fit the bill. I’m pretty sure we are in the midst of one of those moments.

Recently, we’ve taken to driving the golf cart around the neighborhood. We don’t live near the country club. We’re not the country club set by any means. First of all, we don’t play golf. Papa T. used to before he lost his eyesight, but hasn’t in a few years. We’re prone to walking around in the yard in our pajamas in the early morning hours, and we’re not wealthy enough to make donations to artsy fartsy stuff, although we like artsy fartsy stuff. Well, Sissy and I do. Hubby doesn’t really care for concerts with violins unless there are banjos involved. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s against country club rules to plant thirty tomato plants in your backyard. Let me repeat, we do not live near the country club, therefore (and this is important) we are the only ones driving around our subdivision in a golf cart.

We’ve had this golf cart ever since Papa T. stopped playing golf, but we never really used it. Then Sissy moved down the street from us, and we discovered how handy it is to use for quick trips to her house and to the nearby duplex that Hubby manages. Also, Teen Angel, who starts preparing for her driver’s license soon, is all about driving stuff…any stuff that has wheels and a brake pedal. She has fallen in love with the golf cart. She drives it daily. She and Hubby have spent a lot of time talking about the golf cart lately, so I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t. I came home Friday to find they had bought several parts for the golf cart and had been plotting for a while now to pimp their little ride like you wouldn’t believe. I’m embarrassed to tell you how much they’re spending on it with all the starving pygmies in New Guinea and the impending depression that Papa T. keeps warning us about. However, it is their mad money and their father/daughter bonding time, so I have just closed my eyes, strapped on my seatbelt and prayed that this little redneck roller coaster ride won’t have too many drops. I’m worried though. They have big plans that started this morning with a trip to the body shop. Here’s what it looked like on the lot.

It’s getting a shiny coat of paint and a lot of other tricks. See these wheels?

They will be replaced by some Mack daddy pimpin’ chrome wheels and tires that are already at the house…along with a new dash, side mirrors, a horn and a few other accessories. I think they’ve discussed reupholstering the seats, too. Oh, and see the rack in the back?

That’s probably going to be replaced by a fold down seat that they think will be great for carrying Mama J. and Papa T. to Sissy’s house. Frankly, I’m pretty nervous about putting crippled, blind and deaf senior citizens on the back of this thing for a bouncin’ ride that could reach speeds of 22 miles per hour when they get the new motor on it. Thank goodness they nixed the nine inch lift kit.

I had no words for them Friday when they shared their plans with me. I could only stand there and shake my head. Stay tuned for pictures of the end product. I’ll be sure to share them with you. Who knows? Maybe I’ll fall in love with it when it’s done. They have an iPod/CD kit you can get for it. It would come in handy for the Jeff Foxworthy CD’s we're gonna need.