My memoir writing group met today. Here is my piece, about some of the cars from my early driving days. Enjoy!
By the time I turned 16 my Junior year of High School, all of my friends already had a Driver’s License. Some of them even had their own cars. I don’t remember specifically deciding not to get my license, I just didn’t have a need for one. It wasn’t until my Senior year that my Mom decided it was time. I never realized it before, but she probably pushed the subject because my older sister had moved to North Carolina to be a nanny for a year and Mom needed someone to run errands. Whatever the reason, I finally got my license in November of 1987, one month after my 17th birthday.
My family never had fancy cars. Quite the contrary. But my parents’ rule was that as long as I was willing to drive their cars, they’d pay for the insurance and gas. If I wanted to buy my own car, I was on my own. I was a pretty smart kid and I knew a good deal when I saw one so I swallowed my pride and drove whatever was available. Well, I sort of swallowed my pride. We did have one vehicle that I never learned how to drive because, well, I didn’t want anyone to see me in it. It was my Dad’s 1961 Ford van. Rather, it was a van from the front, but looked like a truck from the back. But Dad’s uncle Don had built a camper shell onto the back so it still looked more like a van than a truck. Whatever you called it, it was Ugly with a c
apital Ugh! I remember riding as a front-seat passenger in this beast one afternoon when I saw one of my friends. I immediately ducked so they wouldn’t see me. My Dad actually pulled the van over to the side of the road after my little display, insisting that I’d offended his van. He refused to go until I apologized and kissed the steering wheel. My younger brother did not share my opinion of this van and actually lived in it for an entire Summer.
I remember well the day Dad taught me how to drive a stick shift. We were driving a 1970-something turquoise blue Dodge Colt wagon that my sister dubbed “The Easter Egg”. I didn’t know it at the time, but the clutch on this baby was difficult at best. As I started to get the hang of it, Dad took me to a very steep hill so I could practice how-not-to-roll-backwards from a stop. As luck would have it, another car pulled up right behind us at the stop sign. Dad told me to go but I refused. He tried to tell me I could do this. “Just ease up on the clutch and give it enough gas and you’ll be fine.” No way. “I’ll hit the car behind us,” I insisted. “No you won’t. You’ll be fine.” “I’ll hit them. I’m not going.” Seeing that I was not going to give in, Dad finally got out of the car and asked them to go around us. With the other car out of the way, I was able to move on. My next obstacle was a stop light.
I was the first car at the intersection with a whole line of cars behind me. The light turned green and I slowly moved into the intersection only to kill the engine. Start the car. Kill the engine. By this time the light was red again and I had a lot of angry people behind me. I wish I could say we were still on a hill so I’d have a better excuse, but the road was flat and I was embarrassed. On the next green light, I managed to move, but I’m pretty sure that ended the day’s driving lesson. I don’t remember having any trouble with a stick shift after that. Well, there was that one time I couldn’t get up a hill. I’d get part way up and then the car just wouldn’t go anymore. Finally, on my third attempt, I realized I had the parking brake on!
It wasn’t until college that I really appreciated having learned to drive a stick shift on such a difficult car. Everything I drove after that was cake! I honestly don’t think I’ve ever had to drive a manual transmission that was harder than the Egg.
My favorite car was a pale yellow Honda 600 referred to as “the pee-pee car”, again named by my sister and her friends. It was just a little thing and I’m reminded of it whenever I see a Mini Cooper. It was a gutless wonder, but quite a conversation piece. It had a sunroof that pretty much took up the entire roof of the car. I remember driving it one day to meet a large group of friends. When it was time to go home, I couldn’t find my car. It definitely was not where I had parked it. It turns out, my guy friends had picked it up and moved it to another parking spot. Another time it was the centerpiece at a High School dance. I drove it through the cafeteria doors and it sat in the middle of the commons until the dance was over and I drove it home.
The first car I ever owned was a Subaru. Everyone would ask me what model it was, but I honestly didn’t know. It just said Subaru on the back and that was it. I think I paid $600 and don’t remember ever having trouble with it. I loved that the headlights automatically turned off when I removed the key. Then there was my 1983 Honda Accord. I loved that car! When I got married, I sold it to my parents. My younger siblings got to beat up on it until it died.
There have only been a handful of cars since then. I currently drive either a 1995 12-passenger Ford van or our 1994 Honda Accord. Both run great and I’ve never had a car payment. There’s still 4 years until my oldest gets his driver’s license and then my daughter the year after that. I think I’ll keep these old cars around. If they ever complain about what they have to drive, I’ll just pull over and make them kiss the steering wheel.
