Everyone remembers their first car...it is a right of passage that gives
you the first taste of adult freedom. It is a satisfying moment...even
when it is unspoken, parents telling you, we trust you to go places by
yourself.
My Dad was in the car business. he had promised me my
Mom's 1962 Plymouth Valiant, with only one catch...a report card with
B's or better...I of course got one C and a D thereby missing that
opportunity.
My Dad sold the car and told me if I wanted a
vehicle I would have to pay for it myself. He would collect the money
and purchase a vehicle when I had given him enough. I remember the night
he came home and told me he had found me a car. He said it would need
to go through the shop for some work, but he would be bringing it home
in the next couple of days. I recall impatiently waiting by the window,
hoping to see it.
In my mind it was small, red, and cool. In
reality when it pulled into the driveway it was huge...multicolored, and
a station wagon. My Dad had purchased me a 1968 Belair wagon. It was
mostly blue, automatic, a gas hog, and big enough to have made Noah's
Ark look like a dinghy! I pulled into school the next day horrified that
my wheels would be the object of crappy jokes and teasing.
Oddly
enough when I pulled in there was a row of old beater wagons...so I
parked with them. Seems many of the parents had a meeting and everyone
decided to buy their kids old station wagons.
It was not my dream
car but it got me where I wanted to go! I have a lot of fond memories
of the car and the places it took me. I even remember with some joy, my
brother and I attempting to kill the old girl by removing her oil...she
would hear none of it...
My first car did what first cars are
supposed to do...to teach you to care for and respect it and work for
something better. I drive a Legacy Limited now...it is a dream car,
all-wheel-drive, leather and all the toys...but it will never be like
the Belair...
Categories:
People
