Site icon SPM Writes

Carrots, Pickles & Twinkies: aka “Our Weird Car Game Code”

It all started with a Twinkie. Not the actual sponge cake bar of creamy goodness, mind you, but the shriek of, “TWINKIEEE!!!” triumphantly exclaimed from my backseat. 

All it took was a single shout of “Twinkie” to put us on the cut-throat roller coaster of competition that is The Car Game.

There were no reason for the shout. We were in the car, on the way to dropping #2 off at a friend’s house. # 5 and #6 had come along for the ride.

My natural response was, “Where? What Twinkie??”

To which #2 casually replied, “Over there. The yellow car; she found it.”

Wait- whaat? And yes, my next question was precisely that:

“Wait- WHAT?”

#2: “It’s the car color game. You find a certain color car, & have to yell out the name before anyone else does.” 

*immediate head nods of confirmation from #4 & #5*

 

Me: “But… how did you know that? When did this start? You all play this??”

#2: “Yeah- we’ve been playing it for weeks now!”

 

This rocked my world. See, I’m the default parent in our family. You know: the parent that knows all.the.things going on inside and outside of the family. The circus ringmaster. The scheduler. The Chief Kahuna in terms of the family deets.

I know each kid’s shoe size. How they like their pizza. What makes each one anxious, or happy. How long they’ve gone without a shower. You know, the GOODS.

And yet right under my very nose apparently, an entire game had not only been birthed, but played for weeks…. without me even knowing.

Turns out that the 15y.o (#3) had created the game one day with his best friend, and while we drove to our family vacay (in two cars), my son taught some of his sibs the rules while in my husband’s car.

 

Does the game have a name? Not exactly, though several call it “The Car Game” or “the Car Color Game”. Think Punch-Buggy without the arm-punches (well, hopefully).

Here’s how it works: As you drive around, the first person to call out the name of a certain car color wins a point. The person with the most points at the end of the ride wins the game. 

 

And the precious unicorn of the game:

(Don’t bother asking why the words are what they are, or why the Batmobile isn’t a food name like the rest of the names. It’s the magic of childhood; logic has no place here, people!)

 

But like any kid game, there are dumb, pointless rules like:

Taxis don’t count.

Vans don’t count…. unless the game creator spots one & decides they do. That day. Because he’s losing (you know who you are, #3.)

Some days a pink car is a “doughnut”, & sometimes its “bubblegum”. There is no rhyme or reason to when it changes, or who decides it changes.

The winner of the round wins nothing other than the short-lived glory of being better than his/her siblings.

Bickering about who saw a “pickle” first is not only encouraged, apparently, but essential.*

(*Bickering is also expected when someone attempts to call a car color BEFORE the car is in sight, such as when we all know there is a house with a green car around the block & someone yells, “PICKLE!” before we’ve turned the corner. Mass protests ensue about when the car was actually in sight.)

 

So the kids have been playing this for weeks now, apparently, and it was high time for Mama to get in on the game. And they were delighted with my participation, initially, because who doesn’t love a good family game, am I right??

It was fun… at first.

Until, of course, I started losing. Every time.

Because as I’d be banging a U-ie or cruising down a neighborhood street, from the backseat a triumphant, “Carrot!” would barrel forth, causing me to grimace & frantically scan the street- where? Where?? 

My competitive streak was aflame…

Game ON, kiddos.

Our drives have evolved (or DE-volved, maybe?) into a fiercely competitive battleground. In my car, Twinkies are no longer a sugary snack food, but a spot-the-car-score worthy of an excited, “Yeeess!!” and a fist pump.

Observations:

  1. There are a LOT of yellow cars out there. And more orange cars than I ever thought possible.
  2. When my brain sees a yellow car, it screams, “Banana”. It’s yellow, a fruit, and just makes sense… but that’s not what this game is about. No points for bananas, folks.
  3. The game becomes an obsession, as evidenced when I was driving -alone- and yelled out, “CARROT!”. Gotta keep the skills sharp, you know?

 

And speaking of skills, I recently hit the World Series of Car-Spots. #5 (behind that cute face is a fierce competitor!)  and I were driving, and THERE IT WAS.

The big kahuna. The game’s elusive Moby Dick. 

And in sheer glee, I shouted out:

B-A-T-M-O-B-I-L-EEEEEE!!!!

NAILED IT. Winner: ME.

The game is still going strong, but recently the ante was upped, big time. Our neighbors across the street recently bought a new car. Not just any car, but a YELLOW car. Little did they know that their color choice has increased our competition level tenfold: they’re forever condemned to screeches of, “TWINKIE!” every time they arrive home, or every time my kids pour out our front door.

So, dear family & friends, if we’re ever on the phone & I suddenly yell out, “Pickle- YASSS!” well, NOW YOU KNOW WHY.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

&copy Copyright 2021 Six Pack Mom, All rights Reserved. Written For: SPM Writes
Exit mobile version