The girl with the hearse is named Abigail Worrad.
The hearse is named Miguel.
"Well, technically, it's Miguel," she explained. "But we also call him The Hearse-mobile."
Or other names on mornings when he won't start. But when he does, Worrad says, they go out cruising.
She picked it up this summer for $4,000.
"Which I thought was a steal," she said. "[The seller] told me, 'Lots of people are interested in it, but nobody's crazy enough to buy it.'"
Turns out Abigail Worrad was -- but it's not a morbid thing, she says. More of an antique thing. A conversation piece. She and her husband, Liam, share a love for cars.
"He's into fast cars. I'm into old ones," she said. "[My hearse] is an '88, so it's not a real old car, but I just fell in love with it, honestly. I actually almost bought an old bus recently."
When she calls it the "ultimate station-wagon," a slight accent makes it "way-gehn." She grew up in Minnesota, and at 18 had never ventured farther than North Dakota.
"I picked a spot on the map when I turned 18," she said, and that spot was Cape Girardeau. "I'm spontaneous, I guess. Kind of just because I could."
She admits to relishing the unconventional.
"As if the hearse doesn't say it," she joked.
There's something funny -- or unnerving and unfunny, depending on your sense of humor -- about the sight of her long black "station wagon" pulling out of a grocery store parking lot, or a downtown side street, or at the McDonald's where Worrad works. Some of her elderly regular customers like to suggest she turn it into a morning-coffee shuttlebus.
"It's usually people my age who are creeped out by it," she said. "My neighbor's actually a mortician. He thought it was hilarious as soon as I drove home. He loved it."
It helps her find like-minded people.
"Someone who doesn't think I'm creepy for driving it, it's a conversation piece," she said, shrugging. "Plus, Halloween is coming up."
She and her husband plan to fill the coffin in the back with candy, dress as Tim Burton's Jack and Sally and find a Trunk-or-Treat event to join.
And in the meantime, she daydreams about what her next spontaneous buy might be.
"A collection of hearses," she said wistfully. "I love the ones with all the glass around the sides. Where you can see the inside."
That is, of course, unless anyone has a firetruck for sale.
tgraef@semissourian.com
(573) 388-3627
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