C is for....

(Ignore the bad quality of the photo, it is a digital photo of a 15 year old photograph.)

C is for car.

My first car was a 1980 Chevy Citation XII. It was maroon, with vinyl seats of the same color. The seats were bench style, and went across both the front and back seat of the car. It had an AM radio, and a decent sized gas tank. When I got it, It was 10 years old and had 12,000 miles on it.

My grandfather owned this car before me, and he took immaculate care of it. He only drove around the city, and once we moved to NH, the furthest he ever drove that car was to see us a few times a year. It was washed, waxed, maintained with the care only a finatic could give. The fall after I turned 16, he announced he was getting a new car, and how would I like to buy his? He sold that car to me for $1.00. I had just had knee surgery, and one of my younger brothers decided he wanted to pay for the car. He just loved telling people he bought me my first car.

The car came to my house before I got my license. I waited until after my surgery to go for my drivers test, and the day I got my license I had to babysit after school. My babysitting gig was the next street over, and so I would just walk. But not this day. It was my first time driving anywhere all by myself, and so I drove over and home. I was so nervous I almost turned around and came home. What if I crashed? What if the car broke down? (as if, it was in better shape than I was) What if someone stole it?

That car stayed with me for the rest of my Jr year and all of my senior year in HS. It went everywhere. It drove to school, it took me to my friends house, it brought me to youth group. It went to visit my best friends who lived in other parts of the state and MA... the beach, you name it. Some of my funniest and fondest memories revolve around that poor car. The only time I have ever run out of gas was in that car. And I knew I was riding on fumes, but I didn't care. It was broken into once, for an empty bag that was sitting on the front seat. The windshield got hit by a rock, and then one hot day the whole thing cracked across from that little ding.

The fall after I graduated from HS I signed up with the Army. Soon after I turned around and gave that car to my brother. The one who bought it for $1.00. I only got pulled over once, and it was for a headlight that was blown out, right before I turned it over to my brother. The officer told me to get the windshield fixed, wished me luck in the Army and let me off with a warning.

I have since driven a Ford F250, a Mercury Topaz, a Chevy Cavalier, a Mercury Mystique (don't ever buy a mercury..they suck. you think I'd have learned the first time) and now the Caravan. Up until the Dodge, that little car was the most reliable car I ever owned.