La Vie de Bleu Pierre

Blue Pierre wasn't born Blue. He was a sort of dove gray for the first few days after leaving the tiny Renault dealership in the cosmopolitan village of National City.

Blue Pierre had been adopted by a family of four, un papa, une maman et deux garcons. He loved dashing through the streets of the village and into the country to the family estates in a farming region known as Ramona.

All went well for a time, but then Pierre's life changed. He was carrying the family a few blocks from the Renault dealership when ``Crunch'' someone in one of those uncivilized American vehicles smashed into his back. Pierre suffered injuries to his back and until the doctors at the Renault hospital operated, all his strength was lost in his power train.

After hours on the table, he was almost as good as new. Still his shiny dove gray coat was ruined. Papa Weaver picked a very special color of blue, one not seen since the 1948 Desoto, to replace his damaged coat. Although it was to be a year or so before he was to be dubbed Blue Pierre, he knew the new shade had changed his life.

It was a friend of papa's, Jamie Bryson, who dubbed him Blue Pierre. In fact, it was with Bryson that Blue Pierre had some of his most exciting adventures. During that period Bryson had a paper route, delivering the Los Angeles newspapers in the early morning hours, to augment his less-than-adequate salary as a Star-News reporter.

As it turned out, Bryson's main vehicle, a trusty Ford stationwagon, took ill and Weaver offered Blue Pierre to help deliver the newspapers. Blue Pierre and Jamie hit it off well from the start. One of his attributes was a low-geared differential that allowed him to be driving at an idle. Taking advantage of this, Bryson would drive Blue Pierre along a street at the slow pace, step out and run a paper up the sidewalk and toss it onto the porch. Because of the slow, chugging pace of Blue Pierre, he was able to do this and return to Pierre.

But alas on one occasion, the plan went awry. Jamie bounded out of Pierre, leaping over the curb and running up the sidewalk, tossing the paper dead-center onto the porch. That went well. It was the return where things went wrong.

Jamie had forgotten the hill that was ahead when he darted out of Pierre. Before he could return to the cockpit, Pierre arrived at the top of the hill and started down, his speed increasing.

``Blue Pierre, Blue Pierre,'' Bryson shouted in the chilly, gray darkness of 3:30 a.m. San Diego, as he ran after the Renault 4CV as it picked up speed.

Fortunately for Bryson the clever French engineers had designed Pierre with excellent hearing.

When he heard his name being called, Blue Pierre was near the bottom of the hill. He used the uphill section of the road ahead to slow enough to allow Bryson to catch him.

From that day on, the two were the greatest of friends. Had they both been humans, there is little doubt that they would have sit together at a table under an umbrella, sharing a good Bordeaux, some fine cheese and a loaf of crusty bread.

Next: Blue Pierre faces the challege of the desert life.