Having a car at this point of my life feels it would be an equivalent to having a child; an expensive burden that constantly demands money & attention. Luckily for the past two years, I lived in Hoboken and was spared the worries of keeping a car happy & healthy.
If you have known me for a while, you would know that I have bad luck when it comes to cars. Or maybe it was just my younger self being reckless & inconsiderent. Somewhere down the road when it comes time to enter back into the world of car ownership, I’ll be more careful. But man….looking back, if my cars were in fact children, it wouldn’t have taken long before child protection services were on my case for being abusive, neglectful, and obviously an unfit mother.
Example 1: My very first car – Name: Cassidy. Make – 1997 Chevy Cavalier. Ohhh how I loved Cassidy. And not only because she was my first, but because I bought her all on my own.
After I got the Cavalier, the next few days were spent driving around town basking in the glow of new independence. Sigh, it didn’t take too long before the accidents began. While leaving my friend Paul’s house after a visit, oops! I backed right into his sister’s car. Luckily there wasn’t too much damage – about $300 out of pocket – but to a 17 year old working at a coffee house, it felt like a million.
Over the next 2 years with the Cavalier, I had managed to run into my friend Chiarina’s car while following her up to Ramapo College, which resulted in my entire front of the car falling off and one of her lights dangling for dear life. And you can’t forget the times the trunk would stop working for no reason and happily flap in the breeze.
The Cavalier came with somewhat high mileage. So after 2 years of torturing the poor girl, it was time to go and get a new victim. Entered the Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, Donovan.
I have to say, nothing too severe happened. Well….one day while leaving my friend Steve’s, the entire front bumper fell off. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened. There was no prior evidence to prepare for the random fall….just good luck I guess. The Jeep was in my life for only about a year or so til I got stressed out by car payments. Feeling bad, my parents agreed to trade cars & would take on the car payments.
Car #3 and my last car was the Ford Escort. The Escort was by far the most abused car in the lot. I had this guy for three years and he literally traveled to hell and back. It’s a miracle that the Escort stands in one piece today.
Where to begin the gauntlet the Escort had to face. Perhaps we can talk about the time people broke into it, shattered the back window, and ripped the cd player out one extra chilly day in New Brunswick (I was in college at the time). I was coming out one morning for a super early class and had the joy to discover my poor Escort broken in and robbed of everything in the car, including a bag of socks. Realy? Was that necessary? A few months later, right before I moved out of that very same apartment (aka the first crime scene), discovered that yet another very nice neighbor severely side swiped the car & obviously felt no need to leave a note. But they did present me with a huge deep gash across the left side. Thanks guys, I’ll miss you too…
The obvious indicator that I should never be responsible for the life of a car occurred on a trip home after looking at Halloween costumes on day. It was a windy night, the shopping center was being blown back and forth with leaves and anything else that happened to roll around in the wind…as in shopping carts…All of a sudden, one sad little shopping cart decided to end it all and hurled itself in front of my car. With my non-cat like reflexes, I hit the shopping cart, causing it to fly through the air and propel into the car passing at that very same moment. Luckily, no real damages were done to the Escort, just emotional trauma. But the poor guy passing by got some significant damage. According to the law (though I was hoping we could sue the shopping center) it was my fault. I can’t tell you how it felt having to explain to my parents, yet again, about the freak accident that I was involved in with my car. Months later when I made the move to Hoboken, they probably did a victory lap around the Escort, celebrating that it’s life was spared. My sister has it now and keeps him safe & sound. But every so often when we are all together for a holiday, I can still see the Escort shudder and silently gasp as it reminisced all the pain it once endured by it’s past caretaker, little old me.
Once we move to New Zealand, having a car will be a necessity. Maybe my parenting skills will improve overseas or god help whatever car is doomed to a life with me. To get motivate, maybe we can find something I’d really love, hence treating it like the puppy I have been daydreaming about. Which by the way will be one of these: An Aussie Shepard.
And driving around in this guy:
Add these two elements to my life, and sold! I’ll be back in the driving circuit in no time. Carefully, I might add.