I turned 16 in August of 1987. My parents were desperate for me to get my driver's license so I could drive myself and my little brother to and from school everyday. The car that was going to be my car had been waiting for me all summer in the driveway and I had been practicing driving it, with a parent present, of course.
My grandfather gave me his 1979 Volkswagen Rabbit. It was poop-brown on the outside with tan vinyl upholstery. It was a two-door with what passed for "automatic" seatbelts in 1979: the seatbelts were attached to the door, but unlike new models, they didn't move when you shut the door. They were permanently attached to the top corner of the door. It ran on regular leaded gasoline and had only FM radio. It didn't have air-conditioning. It also didn't have power steering, which was good for the arm muscles.
I loved that car for many reasons. First, it was a gift from my grandfather who took his cars very seriously. Second, it was my ticket to coolness and freedom. Third, it was a VW. VW's have a sort of pedestaled existence in my family. My grandfather always drove one once he retired and gave my dad a baby blue VW bug for his 21st birthday. (In later years, my grandfather would give my brother a blue VW Golf when he turned 21 and my parents gave me a VW Jetta when I turned 21.)
As with most mythical creatures, the Rabbit experienced a sad end. One day in the Spring of 1988, I picked up my brother at his junior high school and we were driving home. I hated having to pick him up because he was so irritating as only little brothers can be. We were arguing about something stupid - he probably looked at me funny or some such horrible offense. I wasn't paying attention to the road and rear-ended a Cadillac.
We weren't hurt and the Cadillac wasn't damaged at all. But the front end of my Rabbit was crumpled. The headlights were destroyed and I couldn't get out of either one of the doors. And my pride was severely bruised.
My parents were not pleased, probably because they knew I had caused the accident while yelling at my brother. As punishment, they refused to buy me a replacement car for a month and didn't fix the Rabbit. Instead, they made me drive it (only during the day because there were no headlights). For a month, I had to crawl in and out of the hatchback door.
My parents always excelled at interesting and humiliating punishments. This one worked - I never totalled another car again. On the other hand, my brother totalled three cars before he turned 21 including the 1983 Toyota Corolla I got as a replacement for the Rabbit.
There is nothing like your first car. No matter how crappy, no matter the problems. It's like your first love . . . you'll always have a longing to recapture that feeling and no car will ever replace it in your memory.
4 comments:
You're right about first cars.
My parents bought me a used tan Buick Skyhawk, a 1984 or so. At the time, my dad asked me if I wanted it, or would rather let him have it and I could have his Cavalier.
I took the Buick because no one in the family had driven it, so it would truly be MY car.
I drove it for probably five years or more until my dad started harping me about how old it was getting and how it probably wasn't a good idea for me to keep driving it. It was a good car, and I hadn't had any major issues with it.
On and on he went, until one Saturday while we were sharing the Journal Star over breakfast (and he was pointing out cars to me in the classifieds) I snapped and said "Fine, let's go!"
Off we went to Green Chevrolet where I bought a 1994 Cavalier and took all of my accumulated belongings out of my Buick and drove away from it. I felt TERRIBLE as I drove off the lot; like such a traitor. What had my Buick done to me to deserve being abandoned like that???
It's one of the few hasty decisions I've made in my life, and I still look for that car on the road, hoping to catch one last glimpse.
My family are big VW people too. My parents conceived me in a VW bus or so the disgusting story goes. I remember a little yellow beetle and lots of other ones throughout the years.
My first car? A Chevy Nova. But not the old school kind, the newer remodeled ones. I would have rather had the old one. I've rear-ended a caddy once. They always win. Always.
My first car - 85 Subaru XT Coupe. Damage driver side door thanks to my sister. In the winter when it snowed, the snow would actually get in the door and on the driver's seat, that kinda sucked. Plus it needed a jump anytime the temperature got under about 20 degrees. That cat lasted forever though, I think we got 140,000 before the clutch finally started to slip so bad it was undrivable. Great car.
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