JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: A girl and her car is a beautiful thing. My first bought-it-myself car was a Saab that had about eleventy hundred miles on it and holes in the floor that had to be covered by heavy rubber mats in the wintertime. It wasn't anywhere near as nice as the first car I got to drive regularly, which was my brand-new husband's brand-new 1985 Mazda RX-7, with the headlights that popped open at the touch of a button and a rotary engine so powerful that the third generation, introduced in 1997, is banned for street driving in the US. (Not even kidding.)
It was a sweet ride, but the rusty old Saab was mine, and, as it turned out, the first and last car I didn't have to put a baby seat (or a kid) into.
My two girls have recently gone through their
own vehicular rites of passage. The Maine Millennial, who has owned, shall we
say, well-used cars over the past few years, was finally in the position
to upgrade when her last Subaru went to that great garage in the sky. She got a
2017 Hyundai Elantra in an eye-popping shade of electric blue, with all the
bells and whistles.
Meanwhile - really, within a week of her sister - Youngest, who had a looong journey toward getting her driver's license, got her first car, a 2002 Honda CRV (only 179,000 miles!) generously passed on to her by my sister and brother-in-law. This has lead to several life improvements for Youngest: she's been able to sign a lease on an apartment fourteen miles from the University of Maine (and thus better than your average student digs) and she can ride around in style with her Shih tzu, Buddy, who has his own special car seat. It's led to one enormous life improvement for me, namely, I don't have to make the three hundred mile round trip to Orono, ME, every time Youngest has a dental appointment/doctor's visit/political rally in the Portland area.
I'm very happy with my supremely sensible Honda Accord, but I do love to see my daughters rejoice in their "new" cars. I know they're vehicles they will always have special place in their hearts.
So, Reds, what are the special cars that you have fond memories of?
RHYS BOWEN: I wouldn’t call them FOND memories, but my first car made a big impression. In England, of course, you don’t take your driving test until you are 18. I bought my first car with money from my twenty-first birthday. It was a little red Fiat 500--a toppolino, used, of course. It looked really cute, but it was a nightmare. It would cut out at the worst times. Driving through the Peak District it cut out at the top of a hill. I coasted for miles downhill and luckily crawled into a service station before it stopped. It started by yanking on a little pull thingie, which came off in my hand one day. Luckily my friend Roger was great with cars and fixed it numerous times.
The added stupidity was that I was working for the BBC and living behind Oxford Street! That meant if I found a parking space I didn’t dare move the car for days. It was a happy day when I sold it.
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LUCY BURDETTE: The one I remember fondly was a Dodge Dart, a two-door sedan with a slant-six engine. It was canary yellow on the bottom, with a black hardtop and black upholstery and steering wheel. I loved it! Until my husband and I moved to Florida. Black baking in the sun equals burned thighs and palms every time.
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: SO snazzy, Roberta! My first car was a Chevrolet Vega, and it was butterscotch yellow with camel leather interior. I thought it was gorgeous, but I mean, it was a Vega. How gorgeous could that even be? But my father made me buy it myself and handle all the negotiations. I think I was 18.
And he said: Do NOT pay for the title or taxes. THEY have to pay that. And if you can’t negotiate that, I won’t buy you the car.
So I was absolutely firm. No matter what the dealer said, I said: I am NOT paying title and taxes, you have to pay that. And if you make me pay it, I’m not buying the car.
We argued and argued, and finally I said--I’m walking out. And they finally agreed.
I told my father afterward, all proud of myself.
He gasped. And said: I never said TAXES! I said TAGS. You have to pay the taxes, for gosh sake.
I said: Well, not this time.
HALLIE EPHRON: My first car was a convertible
Chevy Impala, chocolate brown with butterscotch leather seats… first cousin to
Hank’s. I brought an older male friend with me to buy it, knowing I’d be way
out of my depth. I loved that car, owned it for 2 years until I graduated.
After high school I lived in Manhattan for 8 years - a person living in NYC
needs a car like a fish needs a bicycle… to quote the adage. When we moved to
the Boston area, we bought a Pinto station wagon. TERRIBLE car. TERRIBLE
experience buying it. I still can’t believe that 5 years later when the Pinto
died we went back to that same dealer and bought a Ford Escort station wagon.
Another terrible car that didn’t make it past 75K. Fords: feh.
JENN McKINLAY: My Pontiac Grand Am coupe, merlot red, with a moonroof, and fully loaded stereo. It was my college grad gift from my parents. I LOVED that car. It died after ten years of spontaneous road trips, four big moves, three boyfriends, and 170K miles. I still miss her.
DEBORAH CROMBIE: My first car was a used ‘65 silver Thunderbird--and yes, that is my favorite Marc Cohn song!! Power everything, black leather interior, it was gorgeous and probably worth a mint now. I had it a couple of years and then my dad traded it, no idea why except that he loved to do car deals.
But the car of my heart was my 1970 Datsun 240z, used, of course, in burnt orange. I loved that car. I had to give it up when I moved to England. My dad promised me he wouldn’t sell it, but he did. I never quite got over my broken heart. I did drive a red Honda Prelude for a couple of years, much later on, and that was a much better car but nothing ever quite replaced the Z.
JULIA: Grand Ams, Thunderbirds, and leather seats - we have some stylin' drivers in this group. How about you, dear readers? Did you have a car that made your heart go vroooom?
Oh and as for the title of this blog: "She was made for the straight aways/ Grew up hating Chevrolets/ She's a rocket; she was made to burn."
