Tuesday, July 1, 2008

You asked... my first car

When I was in high school my favorite teacher drove a big yellow banana type car that was falling apart and rusting like no one’s business. We all made fun of him.



As all of my friends started to turn 16 (I was the baby of the group) they started driving nice-ish cars. Saturns and Neons and Cavaliers…. All new and bought for them by their parents. For some reason, I assumed that I would receive the same treatment. (I think I was crazy, because, really? I was one of 6 children and my family wasn’t loaded by ANY means.) I was wrong. ::insert scary music here::



I wish I could find a picture of my lovely first car that I inherited from my great grandmother….. yes… that’s right…. My GREAT- GRANDMOTHER. She was a beauty, that car. She was a big yellow Oldsmobile Delta 88. With rust. LOTS of rust. In fact, there were several places that were so rusty that you could stick your fist through the holes. Very safe. Very Trendy. Very hard to drive. This thing was a BEAST! I had such a hard time maneuvering it, that I actually took out one of my friend’s mom’s bushes and drove around with branches sticking out of my bumper. It was so ugly that my friend’s brother once told me I was lowering the value of his car just by parking next to it. I hated that car.



One hot summer day I was on my way home from work. I was driving down a hill on a busy street, and my brakes gave out. I was lucky not to hit someone as I was weaving in and out of traffic, and I pulled the car into a big gravel parking lot that was (thankfully) mostly empty. The only thing that was between me and the back end of a semi was a “railing” of sorts… the kind with the concrete posts and a cable in between each. I hit the cable. It sliced between the grill of my car and the bumper straight through to my tires. It saved my life. There was glass and metal everywhere. 2 of the posts had been pulled out of the ground. The men who worked in the building came out to make sure that I didn’t hit any of their cars. They didn’t say a SINGLE WORD to me. I was peeved. Then a cop came and pumped the brakes and decided that I was lying and sited me for failure to control. I never saw the car again, and I’m ok with that.

4 comments:

Shereen said...

omg! No one even came out to see if you were OK!? Assholes. All my friends had nice new cars. Not me! I fee ya, Jill.

Nic said...

I am working on trashing my car. I keep randomly scraping it on things (not other cars...yet...luckily) I just forget it has 2 sides sometimes.

Lindsey said...

oh my god! i remember that car!! i was just thinking of those lovely bushes still in your wheels, when you talked about them yourself:-) i can't wait to tell eric that he made it into your blog;-)

Prince Moss @ LexusOfAnnarbor said...

An inherited car from your great grandmother sounds cool, just that yours wasn't in good condition. You should've checked its engine -- the entire car, for that matter -- before driving it. It's for your own safety. I hope that you'll be able to afford a car, new or used, that you can proudly flaunt with your friends.