Where I Was and What I Was Driving

One of my nieces, who grew up in Massachusetts, truly surprised me when not only did she not get her license as soon as she possibly could, she dragged her feet about it, well into her twenties.  Although, I'm one to talk.  When I was sixteen and thus able to secure a learner's permit, I didn't.  Actually, I think some kids were putting the process in motion as young as fifteen and a half.  Like my friend Scott.  Although, he (and thus me) was already driving around completely illegally when he was like fourteen.  Maybe even thirteen.  And a late 60's Buick Electra 225 no less!

When I finally did start driving; or learning to drive; it was behind the wheel of a mid-70's Oldsmobile '98 Regency.  And my oh my, that car was yar!

The Olds '98, which I believe was a 1975 model and possibly even longer than the one seen above, was our family car.  Our dad had purchased it used, from a private seller, because we needed all that horsepower to pull a trailer; which we did, every summer.  Usually to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.  My dad has always been known for his frugal ways; so he must've gotten a good deal on it.  His usual mode of transport was a VW bug.  Not, I think, because of it's coolness factor; but because back then, that was the "cheap" car that frugal people bought.  It was cheap, it was a workhorse and they lasted forever.  That's why so many people had them.  In fact, when he was in the Marines in the late 50's, he bought a bug somewhere in Europe and had it shipped to the States because that was actually cheaper than buying a new car in the U.S.  Their advertising spoke to this.

Isn't it interesting (well, it is to me), that we tend to think our parents didn't have lives until we became conscious of them?  Especially parents as old as mine, for whom even snapshots were a luxury.  Like, what was my father doing when he first became aware of the Volkswagen Bug and decided he wanted one.  Did he see one on the street?  Was he reading a magazine and saw an ad?  Was he watching television, which at the time was a BRAND NEW medium, and saw a commercial.  If the latter was the case, where was he?  Where did the TV come from?  What was he lying, sitting, standing on?  What clothes was he wearing and where did he get them?  These  things can simply NEVER be known; because God knows he isn't going to remember them; or try to, if asked.  "What?" he'd say, "I don't know.  Why the hell would I remember that?"  I guess this is why I write.  Because I think about things like that.  I can close my eyes and remember the smell inside those cars.  The texture and feel of every feature.

So, my thought on my niece's reluctance to drive was that it's simply part of her generation, which I guess is Gen Z. (and isn't that whole "Gen" thing getting a little stale?  Let's just leave it at Gen X (the first and BEST "gen"; like me!) and be done with it.  Her Gen grew up with Uber to cart their little asses around.  Sure great. Share the ride!  But I always wondered who was paying the tab.  I mean, maybe it's a good thing.  The car has probably done more to wreck our environment than anything else; but WE LOVE OUR CARS.  And I'm not excluding myself.  I love being able to jump in a car and go where I want.  But, and this surprises me, I'm kind of looking forward to the "self-drive" option.  I took a recent road trip to St. Louis and ten hours behind the wheel at 57 was kind of hellacious.  Driving takes a huge amount of concentration, which you really start to notice when you get older.
After I learned how to drive in that big ass Olds, my official first car I inherited was from my cousin Kelly.  She gave it to me (after she had sort of driven it into the ground, which I found out later); but before I get into that.  Let's check in on my going to my Senior Prom!  Well, that will have to come later, as I can't find the picture of me and the Olds going to the prom.  Perhaps in an addendum?
Anyways.  My first official car was an early 70's Chevy Malibu Chevelle.  In Gobi Beige.

I had ZERO idea how cool this car was at the time (1984ish).  It was a "muscle car."  Now a cult car.  Apparently a much restored and coveted vehicle.  Who knew?  The only thing I knew at the time was that it was always breaking down.  It spent more time at Artie's Texaco then it did on the road.  Then, we inherited our grandparent's Chevy Impala.  The Impala was sort of the "go to" sedan for my parents as well, as it held all of us and could also pull a trailer.  My sister got her hands on the Impala first.  It was gold.

"Champagne Gold," if my research is correct.  My grandfather smoked non-stop when he drove; and he always had one of those little pine tree air freshners hanging from the radio knob.  He would pull the wrapper off all at once. You weren't supposed to do that.  Your were supposed to do it in increments. You could pass out in that car in the winter with the windows rolled up.

After my sister pretty much ran the Impala into the ground, I inherited that one.  It died pretty quick; so then I was back to borrowing cars.  Then, my dad, ever the frugal military man, wanted to trade out his 1982 Toyota Corolla Tercel (after about a decade)  for a Hyundai Excel, which was the latest super cheap foreign car available in the U.S. (I think the Yugo was a little too tatty, even for my dad).  So he offered the Toyota to me, for $700.00.  I agreed.  Here is one of Toyota's lame-o ads for the Tercel.  Has Toyota ever had a good ad campaign?

Dad gave me a break on the payments after about the 300 dollar mark.  Here's me with the Tercel in the early 90's shortly before I drove it out to Los Angeles:

I actually put the touch of red paint on the hub caps myself.  Here is another view of the model (not mine):

My Tercel was a five speed, on which I'd learn how to drive a stick.  So, this was my car in Los Angeles for about eight years; and then I drove it back to Massachusetts where it literally died after some 100,000 plus miles.  Then, it was back to public transportation.  And then back to Los Angeles in less than a year.  And back to public transportation involving a bicycle and a lot of walking.  And then I met my husband (who wasn't my husband yet) and he had a car, so that became my car.  And now, my cars are his cars and vice-versa.
SYNCHRONICITY ASIDE!
When I was in Marshall's the other day, I was looking through shirts and I came across several where it was like, ah, no way; but then, ah, yes way: because this shit happens to me all the time.  There were a bunch of VW and GM branded shirts.  Here are several designs that caught my eye:

I mean, I had just been looking at early 70's Chevy ads and of course my dad had the red bug and we also had a VW bus (in blue) when I was a baby.

SYNCHRONICITY ASIDE #2:
I recently wrote a second blog about that thirst-trap of a scamp, Chris Meloni.  I posted a pic of him with a car.  I just realized how oddly similar it is to the one of me with my Tercel.  I mean, how many similar points of comparison before something becomes uncanny? I betcha were the same age in those pohots. You tell me, Universe!

Also, speaking of cars...
I'm looking to sell one.  It's a 2003 Honda Civic, 5 speed. 4 door. Silver. It's got super low mileage for a car its age; a lot of years left and the little baby has been well maintained.  No accidents.  Minor dent on front right side.  Make me an offer.  Serious inquiries only!!! (And I 'm serious).

Actual vehicle not pictured.  Call 540-520-1974. Price, further info. and pix available upon request.

A little more to come!