Is it weird that I want there to be information out there on my vehicles? I had to give one away and it was like ripping off my arm and handing it over. See if you can guess which one.
I bought my first car from Grandma Rena before I was old enough to drive. Loosely translated means my sister got to drive it before I did. I didn't care though because it was MY car. How many teenage girls get a muscle car for their first ride? The doors were heavy, the back seat had fantastic upholstery and it went through a set of brakes when I had it. My dad and I changed the whole brake system from the rim up to the pedal. I loved helping work on it. The whole thing was fascinating to me. Still is. The interesting thing about this car was that you could turn the wheel from 10:00 to 2:00 and not turn the car. That is how loose my steering was. I didn't care. I worked around it. It was a ton or two of metal but it was fantastic. I still think about that car and I get all nostalgic when I see one driving around. I get the funniest looks from men when I shout out the make and model and tell them I love that car. I have yet to find one man who can get into a car with that size engine and not try to run it up to 100 mph . . . even my dad. It did remarkably well in the snow too.
I had to trade that car with my mom because it was getting to be too much to handle the repairs and I was going to be heading to college soon (down the street but still). I needed a more reliable car. I was 17 and I walked away from the deal with the Dodge Spirit. Most people will tell you that car is good for nothing but it had more than 200,000 miles on it when I sold it. I went to camp one year before I listened much about car maintenance and got stranded in Melrose, Montana for more than six hours while my family decided who all was coming to get me. I warped the heads in the engine but that got replaced and I never missed an oil change after that. It got me through college and my 6 months of "unemployment" while I was going to school and working in Idaho Falls. I have had to haul a new car battery more than two miles on foot before. That was an interesting day. This car and I went everywhere together. And I mean everywhere. It got me through two boyfriends, about 5 moves and a pretty horrendous snow storm that my mother and I argued about whether or not was considered an "emergency". I later found out that my parents would drive through some pretty rough weather so I probably should have put my foot down and told mom it was what I was comfortable driving through, not what she was comfortable driving through.
I acquired the F-150 during one of the moves. I was finally getting my own place, by myself, no roommates. Which as it turns out was better for me and my 3 am schedule at the television station. Mom and I blew out a tire when we were hauling it up to pocatello and a nice state trooper stopped to help us fix it. After the move It sat out behind my apartment complex for a year before I had to move again. This time I had to move home because a plan didn't quite work out the way I'd hoped. I spent couple months looking for a job and was off to Tennessee. I had my dog, no radio and was hauling all my worldly possessions and my spirit behind me. I told my mom it was something I had to do on my own. Somewhere in Arkansas I had to call my dad to find out how to get my carburator to help me limp into Knoxville. In Knoxville I drove mostly the truck. I am not sure why. The car had been broken into at one point and the poor thing just kept going down hill from there. I had to drive it somewhere and found out the brakes were going out and that is was going to take more money to fix it than it was worth. I would have paid it but I didn't have it. I sold it to the guy at the brake store and went home an cried for hours.
So then it was just me and the truck. It was my grand father's truck. It had rust holes in the side and the paint was oxidized from bumper to bumper but it was redneck and I WAS in Tennessee. It was easy to load up the dog and take her down to the lake and let her jump in to her hearts content. I put a new stereo in it. One with a CD player so I could actually get radio and when I didn't like anything that was on I could pop in a CD. After two years of Tennessee and seeing some of the biggest stories that helped to shape my view of the reality of other people, I was on my way with my truck, a U-haul trailer and the dog to OKC. The Ford has more than 300,000 miles on it. Has been across the country and back more times than I have and as my grandfather quoted two years ago "needed getting rid of". When my mom told him I still had it he told her to tell me to get rid of it. Man o man I love owning a truck. I always used to tell people I would own a purple truck one day. I probably still will. After I'd been here in OKC for a while mom gave me the Intrepid. I don't even want to talk about what happened to that because I feel entirely responsible. Now after being totaled by an OKC curb for the second time it is laying at Pull-A-Part waiting to be stripped of its usefulness. I had no emotional attachment to that car.
I got the Buick just after the truck gave up on me. Just to file in your mental roll-a-dex: "You can't expect an old man to haul rocks." It gave up on me two blocks from the house and Mike (my rommate) gave me a push with his mitsubishi back to the house. I was about 6 months pregnant and my parents were going to bring me the buick my grandfather left behind. I had to promise not to let it wander into any curbs. I also told my dad I couldn't take it unless he let me pay him for it. It is just what I need right now with the baby. It is still under 100,000 miles which is really good for a car 15 years old. We still have many adventures to go on so the story of this car isn't quite over yet. The F150, sadly, is coming to an end. Sentimental reasons have told me I had to keep it even though it won't run. In a couple of weeks it will make it's way to pull apart as well. At least it's parts will go to help another vehicle and not just be crushed to oblivion (that is what I am going to tell myself anyway). It isn't junk to me. It is almost 10 years of my life, two heart aches, a pregnancy, five jobs and four moves. So don't be surprised the next time someone tells me "it's just a car" and I haul off and deck them. It's memories - good, bad, whatever that truck/car was part of my life. Most of my interesting stories arrive in one of those five vehicles. Hopefully I will only ever own maybe two more vehicles in my life. One of which will likely be a purple truck that can haul a horse trailer and handle Montana winters.
I bought my first car from Grandma Rena before I was old enough to drive. Loosely translated means my sister got to drive it before I did. I didn't care though because it was MY car. How many teenage girls get a muscle car for their first ride? The doors were heavy, the back seat had fantastic upholstery and it went through a set of brakes when I had it. My dad and I changed the whole brake system from the rim up to the pedal. I loved helping work on it. The whole thing was fascinating to me. Still is. The interesting thing about this car was that you could turn the wheel from 10:00 to 2:00 and not turn the car. That is how loose my steering was. I didn't care. I worked around it. It was a ton or two of metal but it was fantastic. I still think about that car and I get all nostalgic when I see one driving around. I get the funniest looks from men when I shout out the make and model and tell them I love that car. I have yet to find one man who can get into a car with that size engine and not try to run it up to 100 mph . . . even my dad. It did remarkably well in the snow too.
I had to trade that car with my mom because it was getting to be too much to handle the repairs and I was going to be heading to college soon (down the street but still). I needed a more reliable car. I was 17 and I walked away from the deal with the Dodge Spirit. Most people will tell you that car is good for nothing but it had more than 200,000 miles on it when I sold it. I went to camp one year before I listened much about car maintenance and got stranded in Melrose, Montana for more than six hours while my family decided who all was coming to get me. I warped the heads in the engine but that got replaced and I never missed an oil change after that. It got me through college and my 6 months of "unemployment" while I was going to school and working in Idaho Falls. I have had to haul a new car battery more than two miles on foot before. That was an interesting day. This car and I went everywhere together. And I mean everywhere. It got me through two boyfriends, about 5 moves and a pretty horrendous snow storm that my mother and I argued about whether or not was considered an "emergency". I later found out that my parents would drive through some pretty rough weather so I probably should have put my foot down and told mom it was what I was comfortable driving through, not what she was comfortable driving through.
I acquired the F-150 during one of the moves. I was finally getting my own place, by myself, no roommates. Which as it turns out was better for me and my 3 am schedule at the television station. Mom and I blew out a tire when we were hauling it up to pocatello and a nice state trooper stopped to help us fix it. After the move It sat out behind my apartment complex for a year before I had to move again. This time I had to move home because a plan didn't quite work out the way I'd hoped. I spent couple months looking for a job and was off to Tennessee. I had my dog, no radio and was hauling all my worldly possessions and my spirit behind me. I told my mom it was something I had to do on my own. Somewhere in Arkansas I had to call my dad to find out how to get my carburator to help me limp into Knoxville. In Knoxville I drove mostly the truck. I am not sure why. The car had been broken into at one point and the poor thing just kept going down hill from there. I had to drive it somewhere and found out the brakes were going out and that is was going to take more money to fix it than it was worth. I would have paid it but I didn't have it. I sold it to the guy at the brake store and went home an cried for hours.
So then it was just me and the truck. It was my grand father's truck. It had rust holes in the side and the paint was oxidized from bumper to bumper but it was redneck and I WAS in Tennessee. It was easy to load up the dog and take her down to the lake and let her jump in to her hearts content. I put a new stereo in it. One with a CD player so I could actually get radio and when I didn't like anything that was on I could pop in a CD. After two years of Tennessee and seeing some of the biggest stories that helped to shape my view of the reality of other people, I was on my way with my truck, a U-haul trailer and the dog to OKC. The Ford has more than 300,000 miles on it. Has been across the country and back more times than I have and as my grandfather quoted two years ago "needed getting rid of". When my mom told him I still had it he told her to tell me to get rid of it. Man o man I love owning a truck. I always used to tell people I would own a purple truck one day. I probably still will. After I'd been here in OKC for a while mom gave me the Intrepid. I don't even want to talk about what happened to that because I feel entirely responsible. Now after being totaled by an OKC curb for the second time it is laying at Pull-A-Part waiting to be stripped of its usefulness. I had no emotional attachment to that car.
I got the Buick just after the truck gave up on me. Just to file in your mental roll-a-dex: "You can't expect an old man to haul rocks." It gave up on me two blocks from the house and Mike (my rommate) gave me a push with his mitsubishi back to the house. I was about 6 months pregnant and my parents were going to bring me the buick my grandfather left behind. I had to promise not to let it wander into any curbs. I also told my dad I couldn't take it unless he let me pay him for it. It is just what I need right now with the baby. It is still under 100,000 miles which is really good for a car 15 years old. We still have many adventures to go on so the story of this car isn't quite over yet. The F150, sadly, is coming to an end. Sentimental reasons have told me I had to keep it even though it won't run. In a couple of weeks it will make it's way to pull apart as well. At least it's parts will go to help another vehicle and not just be crushed to oblivion (that is what I am going to tell myself anyway). It isn't junk to me. It is almost 10 years of my life, two heart aches, a pregnancy, five jobs and four moves. So don't be surprised the next time someone tells me "it's just a car" and I haul off and deck them. It's memories - good, bad, whatever that truck/car was part of my life. Most of my interesting stories arrive in one of those five vehicles. Hopefully I will only ever own maybe two more vehicles in my life. One of which will likely be a purple truck that can haul a horse trailer and handle Montana winters.
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