When I was a Kid in Tasmania my mother owned a mission brown Chrysler Valiant VIP. It was as big as a whale. In the back seat it had pull down trays and spot lights like an aeroplane. It had a huge roaring motor that drank fuel like there was no tomorrow. My mother would drive this great boat at hight speeds around the winding roads of Tasmania making me want to vomit in the back. We lived in a house next to the beach with a steep drive-way and when it rained, the whale would struggle to make it to the top. Once when we were trying to put our horse Jetta into the horse trailer, Jetta reared up and kicked the beloved VIP in the door. The dent was repaired but my mother continued to talk about it for years. My mother dated the car-sales man who sold her the VIP. His name was Rox. I liked him a lot. He always brought me Coke and chips and arrived in the newest, flashiest Chryslers. He would park his cars on top of the drive near the neighbours legendary Chrysler V8 Charger. The VIP remained with us for a few years but was eventually replaced by a pissy little green Mitsubishi.
