First car

[gailkate]

I didn't actually drive till I was 24. I had a license and all, but my mother's car was a stick shift and our high school didn't have one to practice on. Friends had cars, no big deal, and I just sort of drifted along.

So as a new teacher at a community college several miles outside of town, I suddenly needed a vehicle and someone to teach me to drive it. A friend took me to a gas station where he'd seen the cutest little VW convertible for sale. Only $400! It was a yellow bug and only 4 years old, but its owners had abandoned it rather than pay the repair bill. The gas station guy said something about compression and that the car might be good for 6 months.

The running boards were attached with wire and tape. The top wouldn't actually come down, but it had some rips for catching a breeze and dead bugs fell out of it into my long, hippie hair. I named it Herschel and loved it unreservedly.

I think I've told that story before, but I saw a car today that looked a lot like the original Herschel and felt a little clutch at my heartstrings, a longing to feel the wind and gently drifting maggots in my hair.

So what was your first vehicle? Motorcycles count, too.

[joew]

In 1964 I got a white Rambler American (maybe 1959 or 1960 model) to go to and from grad school and get around Durham, NC. I don't recall any problems with it. I sold it when I went to try out for the monastery at the beginning of 1966.

[Jane]

My father bought a little blue Corvair for me when I graduated from college. It cost $1500, and I paid him back gradually with my grand salary of $6500 per year. Her name was Martha. Despite Nader, she was a good car. She started in Michigan's frosty weather even though she had to stay outside. Eventually, I had to drive with the windows open and my head sort of tilted out the window because of the fumes, but other than that, no prob. I drove it from 1968 to 1973 when my father gave us a new car (a Matador that was nothin' but trouble) because I had a little baby and he didn't think she should have to hang her head out of the window. He took the Corvair and drove it until it died, sadly and quietly, by the side of a country road.

[Gracie]

I learned to drive when I was 17--waited a year so my brother and I could take driver's training at the same time. Learned to drive an enormous station wagon, identical to the one my parents owned. Big as a tank. But I was scared to death and drove as little as possible.

And then I got married. And my husband wouldn't 'let' me drive his car. In fact, when he went into basic training, his parents came and got the car and took it to keep for him, so I wouldn't drive it. I don't know how they expected me to do my errands, get to work, all that....so I did what I could and walked everywhere.

(I was a different person then. Meek as a mouse.)

When Grizzy and I married, we could never afford more than one car so it was a moot point. He did all the driving, and I walked everywhere I could so as not to be a pain in the butt.

(Still somewhat meek.)

So the upshot was that I didn't drive again until I was 42, the year Griz left, and then I had no choice. I literally took a mild sedative to quell my fears, got a learner's permit, and started practicing with either my mom or my daddy. When it was time to get my license, I failed the first time because I had a (*&*(^* of a time parallel parking between POLES. Not cars. That would've been much easier. The instructor was a doll and told me that he couldn't tell me what to do, but that the poles were going to remain in place while he went about his business for the day, and no one would be there to see if anyone came in to practice. I took the hint and Daddy and I went back and practiced for about three hours, determining by where my headlights hit on the office building exactly when I needed to begin the three-step process. And then I went back the next day and nailed it.

And I was prouder of getting my license again at the age of 42 than I'd been at 17!

SO my first car, needless to say, was a rock bottom bargain model, a 1980, I think....Ford Taurus station wagon. Faded blue. Cracked windshield. Metal trim gone, replaced by duct tape details. Field mice in the back, which I didn't know until I was removing Betsy's baby seat for a cleanup and found all sorts of calling cards beneath it...shudder....

Cost about a thousand dollars. Not worth THAT much, as I learned 6 months later when the brakes utterly failed and I slammed into the side of a laundry truck. That's another story. It was totaled, replaced with a 2000 Chevy Blazer, a car I thoroughly enjoyed driving...yeah, I love to drive, now. Finally realized that what I was afraid of was not what I would do, but what someone else might, which I cannot control.....

[brutus]

My first "car" was a pickup. Yeah, I know, The ~B~man in anything else just wouldn't fit.
Fresh out of highschool in 1980, I spotted a 1974 Chev. 1/2 ton 2WD on a dealer's lot. Dad cosigned for me and it became mine. It was as plain jane (sorry Jane!) as you can get. No AC, no tilt wheel, no power windows or locks, no cruise. I bought an aftermarket sliding rear window which helped in the summertime. Drove the wheels off of it for three years when I traded it for a somewhat-newer GMC 4X4 which was WELL used. Oftentimes, I wish I had that '74 back. I am like Ace. vehicles hold sentimental value for me. Like one of the family.

[booklady]

B-man, my first car was a pickup as well. Half-ton Chevy, '68, I think, but maybe earlier. Blue. My dad, who had moved to Hawaii with my mom and didn't take the truck, while I entered my sophomore year at UCSB, gave her to me when he found out I was hitchhiking. I named her Bertha. I once got a ticket for letting kids ride in the back (the policeman didn't like the part about the beer back there, either. ) When the heck did riding in the back of a truck become a no-no? We always did it growing up!

[michael]

My first car was an Oldsmobile Delta 88.

I was 19 years old and had been in the Navy for a little over a year. I was stationed in Galveston, Texas, and it was in the early ‘70s when we were experiencing the first gasoline price hike crisis. I went to a used car dealer and picked out a Toyota compact and told the dealer that I was going to see about getting a loan and would be back the next day. When I returned the next day, the dealer, who was a nice elderly guy, said that another couple came in after me and paid cash for the car, hooked it up to their Winnebago and drove off with it. He apologized and said that most young men, like myself, almost never come back to conclude the deal. He said that he felt bad about the situation and offered me the Delta 88 at the same price as the Toyota, and the Delta (gold body, black vinyl top) was a beauty! So, I bought it.

It was a great car; lots of power, rode like a Cadillac and drank lots of gas. I really only needed a car for going to the laundry mat, doing a little shopping and going to the movies and restaurants. But, when I went to those places, I was driving in style.

Mike