Grand Prix

My brother sent me this picture this morning--A Grand Prix that could be yours or mine for $1700.

However, that's not why he sent it.

Bob has an incredible memories for details--including a conversation in the car one day in Macon when we were kids.

I saw this car--or one very much like it--and commented on it, pronouncing its name like it's spelled.

Bob recalls our daddy's response:

“Linda, don’t use that word” after you proudly announced as we drove through downtown Macon,  “There’s a red grand pricks...” 

But he was seemingly at a loss for words when you asked “Why? What does it mean?”