The Sound of Something Shiny

I was exiting the freeway yesterday and saw a car that grabbed my attention instantly – not because it was stylish and sporty, not because it was flashy and cool, but because it existed.

It was a Chevrolet Nova, and the body was in fairly good condition – no dents, no unsightly scrapes – but it wasn’t pristine. Or “cherry” as they used to say back in the day. It was just a Nova like thousands of others still on the roads of America today.

What made this one remarkable? Its color. The owner of this car had paid someone good money to paint it avocado.

It was an Avocado Chevy Nova.

The car itself stood out among others because of its unusual color, but long after it had turned a corner and rolled out of my sight, the echo of its uniqueness kept playing in my ears.

Avocado Chevy Nova. Avocado Chevy Nova. Avocado Chevy Nova.

I couldn’t stop saying that phrase. It seems magical – move over, “abracadabra”. Wave the wand and say, “avocadochevynova”.

Need a meditation mantra? I invite you to use “avocadochevynova”

Need a game to occupy elementary school-aged kids? Have them find all the words that can be made from the letters in avocadochevynova.

Writing a book involving a hot Russian female spy? You could name her Avocado Chevynova.

I wish I’d had my camera so I could post a photo of it here. But really, it wasn’t the car that was memorable. It’s that addictive phrase.

Avocado Chevy Nova…

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