about
I wrote this as an apology for my really uncool car--a rusty '63 Plymouth with a bad paint job and a push-button transmission, which in 1977-78 was not old enough to be cool, just old enough to be old. It was not the car on the album cover; the picture on this page is what the car looked like, same color and everything, but mine was nowhere as clean or nicely restored). The idea was to make BYU girls think I was still cool, even though I had an ugly car. Right after I wrote it I played it for a BYU co-ed who, when the song was over, got the point and asked me to marry her (jokingly, of course).
One thing I did like about the car was the bench front seat. One night I was out with a girl who was hugging the passenger door arm rest. I said, "You know what I like about bench seats?" She said, "No, what?" I said, "If the girl likes you, she can slide over and sit next to you." After a moment's silence she said, "You know what I like about bench seats?" I said, "No, what?" And she said, "I can put my purse in the middle," which she proceeded to do for emphasis.
Rosewood Studio was located over Hoover's jewelry store on Center Street in Provo, Utah. We ran microphone cables out the windows, down the front of the building, taped them to the sidewalk (so pedestrians wouldn't trip), and put microphones on boom stands under the open hood of my car. We disconnected the distributor so the car wouldn't start and then used the ignition and sick car horn for rhythm. I was sitting in the car with headphones on, hearing the other tracks, which nobody on the sidewalk could hear, so it must have looked pretty crazy. It was a ton of fun, though.
lyrics
We like our Daddy's Plymouth,
We like to go with him for rides;
He takes us everywhere,
Over here and over there--
We like our Daddy's Plymouth
Our Daddy's car is full of holes,
He says it's getting pretty old;
The doors don't work on the left side,
So we all get in on the right
Jimmy and Sue's Dad is real mean;
He likes to keep his big car clean.
They can't play rocket ship to Mars,
So we all come and play in ours.
Whenever we go really far,
Mom drives and Daddy plays guitar;
We all sing high and dad sings low,
The car goes rocking down the road.
When Mom and Dad think we're asleep,
They sit real close on the front seat;
Dad kisses Mom, Mom kisses Dad--
We start to laugh and Dad gets mad.
credits
license
all rights reserved
