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FIRST CAR
There is no doubt that Americans have a love affair with the cars. Regardless of what any of us are driving today, we can all fondly remember our very first car.(perhaps this story will bring back memories of your own first car) As I think back, I can remember waiting with great anticipation for the moment that I could speed away without my parents in my own car. A car represented much more than just simple transportation, it represented freedom. I had gotten a taste of the “good life” while driving with a few of my slightly older friends that already had the good fortune of getting their license.
As the big day for my drivers permit approached, I was already day dreaming of driving. I can remember sitting in class, staring out the window, and listening to the drone of my teacher’s voice. My young mind would drift off as I watched the traffic pass by the school. I was mesmerized by the thought of unrestricted travel. I soon would be able to go anywhere I wanted, and when I wanted, in the comfort and style of my own car. In my mind, walking was highly over rated.
Perhaps I would get a Cadillac, Corvette, or a Mercedes. Maybe I could even talk Dad into getting me a convertible. My vivid imagination envisioned me racing by in a sports car convertible with my sunglasses gleaming and my hair blowing in the wind. I would slow down when I passed the school to make sure that all my friends could get a glimpse of me in my new ride. There would be no more sitting home in boredom for me.
Having my own car would open new adventures and possibilities to me. I could easily visit friends, go to the beach, travel to distant places and even take girls to the drive in movie. I glanced over at Carolyn, the hottest girl in the class and gave her a knowing wink. Even though she had not paid me a lot of attention up to this point, I felt certain that she would swoon, when I offered her a ride in my new sports car.
My daydreams were usually interrupted by the teacher calling my name and asking me to repeat what was just said. Of course I didn’t know and didn’t care, it was like being in love. In just a few short days I would finish driver education with the high school football coach as teacher and one of those weird cars with two steering wheels and two sets of foot pedals. I had driven the coach without incident, endless times around the parking lot and also to his bank, dry cleaners, and favorite lunch spots. It was clear, I was ready for Indy. Soon I would possess that small piece of paper that meant freedom. I would join the ranks and fellowship of legal drivers.
Well, soon the big day came and I passed my driving test with ease (ok..maybe I had a little trouble with parallel parking and I forgot to turn my turn signal off for 10 minutes..but I passed).
With my newly issued learner’s permit in hand I was ready to conquer the road., Just like some ancient ritual of passage that marked my coming of age, I had now joined the ranks of the adult world..Today I could drive, today I was a man.
Fortunately for me, it was Friday afternoon and that meant one thing..the whole weekend to perfect my driving game and be seen by all my friends. I was certain that today would be the last day that I would have to ride the bus home with all the other… “non-drivers”.
I had rehearsed this moment in my mind a thousand times. I felt reasonably confident that when the bus dropped me off in front of my house, I would receive my just reward for being such an outstanding driver and son. I knew I could count on old dad to remember the many hints and discussions we had about the type and color of sports car that I would prefer. I had even left a few car magazines conspicuously open around the house that morning as a refresher course on my new car preferences.
I was tingling with anticipation as the bus rounded the final corner from my home. My face was pressed up against the window as I practiced the surprised look that I would show my parents when they handed me the keys to my new set of wheels.
I can remember jumping down all three stairs of the bus and dropping my backpack in total surprise. For a moment, I stood there in shock as the bus door closed behind me and pulled off. I looked up the driveway and much to my surprise; the only car parked there was my mother’s old Dodge Dart (with the push button transmission).
There must be some mistake. Perhaps the bus had dropped me off at the wrong address. There was no new car, no giant red ribbon, and no eager parents, marching band, or well wishers there to greet me in a triumphant return from my driving test.
As I recall it took a day or two for the shock and full weight of the disappointment to set in. There would be no new car, no leather driving gloves, no dice hanging from the rear view mirror, and no shot at impressing my beloved Carolyn.
It was at that point that I learned that reality can be very humbling. My mom would be willing to drive with me on my learners permit, but she needed the car for her own use. She couldn’t part with it so that I could drive it to school (we actually tried one day, but I was so embarrassed, having to pull up and then have to hand the keys to my mother as she gave me a peck on the check in front of all the boys.) Over the next few weeks and months I bugged mom and dad for the opportunity to drive any chance I could get. Thinking back they were very gracious about spending the time with me, but I could never quite get them to match my enthusiasm for just “going for a ride”. They allowed me to chauffer them around for all their meetings, appointments, and shopping trips, and sometimes just to drive aimlessly for the fun of it.
I waited anxiously for the rest of the year until I was able to get my regular drivers license and actually take the car out on my own. I think it is a pivotal moment in a parent’s life the first time their child drives off on his or her own and leaves the parent there waving at the curb. (maybe they are just worried that the car may get scratched) It was also my first experience in paying to fill up the car. I could tell right away that this would not be my favorite part of the whole driving experience.(and it still is not today)
The young guy at the gas station would give me advice on how impress the girls with my automotive prowess. Always open the door for them, make sure you leave the car running if you have to go into the store for a few minutes, crack the window a little (or was that advice for when you had the dog in the car).
For me, it was several years latter before I got the chance to own my own car, and it was not exactly the thoroughbred that I had always imagined. Instead I bought an Old Camero, a muscle car, with a huge engine and extra wide rear tires, it was love at first sight. The fuel mileage was terrible and it pulled to the right, but I could win a race with most of the cars on the street. My parents had urged me to buy a dependable car like a Volkswagen, but I had other ideas.(after all..I knew best..right) It was my hard earned money and I was going to get exactly what I wanted ( or at least what I wanted, that was in my very meager price range).
When I had finally saved up enough money to buy my own first car, I guess I was too excited and bought the first car I looked at. I had zero mechanical knowledge (some things never change) and made the purchase without consulting a mechanic. Maybe during the test drive, I should have noticed the smoke coming from the exhaust, the squeaky brakes, or the tires rubbing the wheel wells when I went around a corner. Not to mention the near bald tires and missing engine mount. I found out that buying your first car is very much like falling in love the first time. For me, excitement took over where logic should have prevailed. The first car is after all a very emotional purchase.
Well, as luck would have it, I learned a very costly lesson and I spent more time under the hood than in the driver seat. In the end I was the proud owner of several more used cars before I finally purchased my first new car.
Well, I’ve had many new cars since then, and I still let my emotions interfere when I get the bug for a new car. There is something about the smell and feel of a brand new car that quickens my heart. There are so many new buttons to push and gadgets to work. Our cars are almost like a statement about ourselves. I always bargain with the dealer before I buy, but once I get in the frenzy I know deep down that I won’t walk away. I’m driving a much nicer ride these days, but there will always be a special place in my heart for my first car.
Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.
There is no doubt that Americans have a love affair with the cars. Regardless of what any of us are driving today, we can all fondly remember our very first car.(perhaps this story will bring back memories of your own first car) As I think back, I can remember waiting with great anticipation for the moment that I could speed away without my parents in my own car. A car represented much more than just simple transportation, it represented freedom. I had gotten a taste of the “good life” while driving with a few of my slightly older friends that already had the good fortune of getting their license.
As the big day for my drivers permit approached, I was already day dreaming of driving. I can remember sitting in class, staring out the window, and listening to the drone of my teacher’s voice. My young mind would drift off as I watched the traffic pass by the school. I was mesmerized by the thought of unrestricted travel. I soon would be able to go anywhere I wanted, and when I wanted, in the comfort and style of my own car. In my mind, walking was highly over rated.
Perhaps I would get a Cadillac, Corvette, or a Mercedes. Maybe I could even talk Dad into getting me a convertible. My vivid imagination envisioned me racing by in a sports car convertible with my sunglasses gleaming and my hair blowing in the wind. I would slow down when I passed the school to make sure that all my friends could get a glimpse of me in my new ride. There would be no more sitting home in boredom for me.
Having my own car would open new adventures and possibilities to me. I could easily visit friends, go to the beach, travel to distant places and even take girls to the drive in movie. I glanced over at Carolyn, the hottest girl in the class and gave her a knowing wink. Even though she had not paid me a lot of attention up to this point, I felt certain that she would swoon, when I offered her a ride in my new sports car.
My daydreams were usually interrupted by the teacher calling my name and asking me to repeat what was just said. Of course I didn’t know and didn’t care, it was like being in love. In just a few short days I would finish driver education with the high school football coach as teacher and one of those weird cars with two steering wheels and two sets of foot pedals. I had driven the coach without incident, endless times around the parking lot and also to his bank, dry cleaners, and favorite lunch spots. It was clear, I was ready for Indy. Soon I would possess that small piece of paper that meant freedom. I would join the ranks and fellowship of legal drivers.
Well, soon the big day came and I passed my driving test with ease (ok..maybe I had a little trouble with parallel parking and I forgot to turn my turn signal off for 10 minutes..but I passed).
With my newly issued learner’s permit in hand I was ready to conquer the road., Just like some ancient ritual of passage that marked my coming of age, I had now joined the ranks of the adult world..Today I could drive, today I was a man.
Fortunately for me, it was Friday afternoon and that meant one thing..the whole weekend to perfect my driving game and be seen by all my friends. I was certain that today would be the last day that I would have to ride the bus home with all the other… “non-drivers”.
I had rehearsed this moment in my mind a thousand times. I felt reasonably confident that when the bus dropped me off in front of my house, I would receive my just reward for being such an outstanding driver and son. I knew I could count on old dad to remember the many hints and discussions we had about the type and color of sports car that I would prefer. I had even left a few car magazines conspicuously open around the house that morning as a refresher course on my new car preferences.
I was tingling with anticipation as the bus rounded the final corner from my home. My face was pressed up against the window as I practiced the surprised look that I would show my parents when they handed me the keys to my new set of wheels.
I can remember jumping down all three stairs of the bus and dropping my backpack in total surprise. For a moment, I stood there in shock as the bus door closed behind me and pulled off. I looked up the driveway and much to my surprise; the only car parked there was my mother’s old Dodge Dart (with the push button transmission).
There must be some mistake. Perhaps the bus had dropped me off at the wrong address. There was no new car, no giant red ribbon, and no eager parents, marching band, or well wishers there to greet me in a triumphant return from my driving test.
As I recall it took a day or two for the shock and full weight of the disappointment to set in. There would be no new car, no leather driving gloves, no dice hanging from the rear view mirror, and no shot at impressing my beloved Carolyn.
It was at that point that I learned that reality can be very humbling. My mom would be willing to drive with me on my learners permit, but she needed the car for her own use. She couldn’t part with it so that I could drive it to school (we actually tried one day, but I was so embarrassed, having to pull up and then have to hand the keys to my mother as she gave me a peck on the check in front of all the boys.) Over the next few weeks and months I bugged mom and dad for the opportunity to drive any chance I could get. Thinking back they were very gracious about spending the time with me, but I could never quite get them to match my enthusiasm for just “going for a ride”. They allowed me to chauffer them around for all their meetings, appointments, and shopping trips, and sometimes just to drive aimlessly for the fun of it.
I waited anxiously for the rest of the year until I was able to get my regular drivers license and actually take the car out on my own. I think it is a pivotal moment in a parent’s life the first time their child drives off on his or her own and leaves the parent there waving at the curb. (maybe they are just worried that the car may get scratched) It was also my first experience in paying to fill up the car. I could tell right away that this would not be my favorite part of the whole driving experience.(and it still is not today)
The young guy at the gas station would give me advice on how impress the girls with my automotive prowess. Always open the door for them, make sure you leave the car running if you have to go into the store for a few minutes, crack the window a little (or was that advice for when you had the dog in the car).
For me, it was several years latter before I got the chance to own my own car, and it was not exactly the thoroughbred that I had always imagined. Instead I bought an Old Camero, a muscle car, with a huge engine and extra wide rear tires, it was love at first sight. The fuel mileage was terrible and it pulled to the right, but I could win a race with most of the cars on the street. My parents had urged me to buy a dependable car like a Volkswagen, but I had other ideas.(after all..I knew best..right) It was my hard earned money and I was going to get exactly what I wanted ( or at least what I wanted, that was in my very meager price range).
When I had finally saved up enough money to buy my own first car, I guess I was too excited and bought the first car I looked at. I had zero mechanical knowledge (some things never change) and made the purchase without consulting a mechanic. Maybe during the test drive, I should have noticed the smoke coming from the exhaust, the squeaky brakes, or the tires rubbing the wheel wells when I went around a corner. Not to mention the near bald tires and missing engine mount. I found out that buying your first car is very much like falling in love the first time. For me, excitement took over where logic should have prevailed. The first car is after all a very emotional purchase.
Well, as luck would have it, I learned a very costly lesson and I spent more time under the hood than in the driver seat. In the end I was the proud owner of several more used cars before I finally purchased my first new car.
Well, I’ve had many new cars since then, and I still let my emotions interfere when I get the bug for a new car. There is something about the smell and feel of a brand new car that quickens my heart. There are so many new buttons to push and gadgets to work. Our cars are almost like a statement about ourselves. I always bargain with the dealer before I buy, but once I get in the frenzy I know deep down that I won’t walk away. I’m driving a much nicer ride these days, but there will always be a special place in my heart for my first car.
Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.
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