I checked the Pimp my Ride site and you have to be between 18 and 22 years old and live in Southern California.
Rats! I thought that was a great idea too!
Oh I know just how you feel ivylass. There have been times in my life when I have quite well off and others when I’ve been struggling. There for a few years after my marriage broke up, I was driving an older model car and was living in public housing. My daughter had a fairly hard time with it. When I took her to school (primary school) I had to drop her down the road so nobody would see.
Also when the mother of one of her friends found out where I was living, refused to let her daughter associate with her any more. My daughter was very hurt by this, especially when the woman had never spoken to me, knew nothing about me, my family or my circumstances. What a difference having a few extra dollars makes to our perception of people.
Tell them that if they care so much, they can repair/replace the car themselves. I didn’t particularly like our car until I realized that other people actually thought Volvos were cool. Oh, and when I started driving it, I discovered that it has a very nice turning radius. 
[hijack]
You’re a libertarian, and you’re supporting Bush? Have you been keeping up with current events? Heard of a little guy named Ashcroft? Noticed the largest budget deficit in history?
Oh, I get it. You must believe in trickle-down (er, excuse me, supply-side) civil liberties! Give 'em to the wealthy and the large corporations first, and they’ll flow down to the populace!
Yeah, that’s the ticket. 
[/hijack]
(but I do like the (narf)!)
We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
You know, I went to middle school with a girl who got dropped off every day by a limo. Big black stretch. Her father was not famous. Just a limo driver her dropped her off on his way to work. But she was horribly embarassed about it. I remember her once saying, “Why can’t my parents drive a minivan like normal people?”
You can never make teenagers happy.
By the time I got to college, having a beater car was a badge of honor-- like the worse shape your car was in, the cooler you were. Bonus points for items such as visible primer or non-opening doors. My car had broken power windows that never quite closed, alignment that made me hold the wheel signifigantly to the left, a gas gauge that swung around constantly like a broken compass, and 100K on the odometer. A friend of ours dubbed his car “The Ghetto Sleigh”, and eventually that spread to describe all such cars. My car said proudly stated, “My owner is completely broke. So broke she must fix her broken side mirror with duct tape.” This was a fair assesment of my finances at the time.
Amazingly, my teenage sister and her friends were not embarassed (and in fact thrilled) to be picked up at school by me and my sleigh-- which you could hear comming a mile away, thanks to a hole in the muffler. However, both my mother’s perfectly nice Saturn and my Dad’d brand new Blazer mortified her. Parents are just uncool and embarassing. College-student older sisters are not, no matter what beast they drive.
Not exactly relavent, but my mother threatens my brother and I that if we go to a party with drugs and such, and she finds out, she will show up at the house with no makeup, no shoes, hair a mess, and in her ratty bathrobe. She will then walk in, and take us out by the earlobe. Scary bananas. My brother and I are very good kids.
I love that. I’ve followed your progress for some time now, ivylass, first as you got one kid over to the private school, and then you managed the other - and I can only reiterate what others have said - you’re doing a great thing for the kids and, no matter what you do, you’re going to be an embarrassment to them. C’est la vie (matt might drop by and provide the appropriate accents).
I don’t know why that is with teenagers - perhaps it has something to do with carving out your own identity, seperate from that of your parents.
One of my friends made a point to, during his daughter’s junior and senior years in high school, drive by the school in the morning and sing to her. She survived.
I’m reminded of a young woman who asked me to be her date to her senior prom. As the festivities wound down, we retired to the garage where valets were retrieving vehicles. Being the prom of an affluent suburban high school, there was a steady stream of new Cadillacs, Corvettes and the like. As we waited, my date’s apprehension became apparent.
My vehicle at the time was a several years old Datsun pickup truck. It had experienced some sort of unusual wreck that had lead the responding body shop to paint the top half of the truck a much darker green than the lighter bottom. This had inspired an artistically bent friend of mine to execute Japanese Rising Suns on the doors.
It was highly evocative of a WWII Japanese fighter plane. As it wheezed and coughed its way down the exit, I became aware of both my date’s cringing fear of having to enter the beast in front of the assembled crowd as well as the rising tide of derision that was sweeping the lobby. Hootin’ and hollerin’ ensued.
Being a wizened old man of 20 at the time, I cared little what these kids thought of my ride. But I also realized that, after a successful evening, my date’s night was going to hell. Then I decided that she ought to just pitch it, and suggested that to her. The right time in her life, I guess - she got over it very quickly.
But that’s 18, not 14 - good luck with the next few years, ivylass.
It’s probably important to remember that there is a massive gulf between “ashamed of” and “embarassed by”.
As a fourteen-year old myself, I’d be glad he’s being honest and courteous with you, even if it’s over something petty. 
I don’t like my mom’s gas-guzzling firetruck-red SUV, but when I needed to bring in a science project, I just had to suck it up and take a ride to school. 
Thanks!
oh yes!
My little one is only 4 months. Little does she know that Mumsy and Daddy bought a set of robes and slippers that we will faithfully wear until she hits about, oh…13?
By then, the robes should be almost transparent and most horrifying!
Then, when she complains, I will break down and cry, “But I got this robe when you were born!” (sniffle sniffle!).
Mr Baboon is also planning on taking notes on when she misbehaves. He will then re-inact the crime while she is on a date. Oh, except we won’t tell her date it’s a reinactment!
Ivylad reminded Ivyboy last night that he went to high school his senior year in a rather ritzy part of town, and all the girls wanted to go with him and his junky (but very fast) GTO.
You guys are great. Thanks for making me feel better.
In two years, when he’s drving, he’ll be begging you to let him drive that “crappy car” to school!