People who know me will laugh when they see this topic, because I suffer from some sort of car curse. It’s sort of my own fault. I need to sell my car. My Jetta spent nearly two months in the shop this year because it began growing a dangerous mold after a botched factory recall of the sunroof drain plugs (don’t ever buy a Volkswagen with a sunroof). During that time, the dealership gave me a courtesy rental car. But only for two-day time chunks. Which meant I drove a lot of cars. For some reason, driving such a grand variety of cars got me thinking about my high school wheels. Get ready. Here it comes.
In high school, I drove a propane-powered El Camino. I mean, the propane tank just sat there, larger than life, in the bed of the car. Some people assumed that it was some sort of speed demon vehicle and that the propane tank contained super-powerful fuel. Not so. But it led to countless men challenging me to race them at red lights. Which led to countless male-driven pickup trucks squealing away from me when the light turned green.
The funny thing about my propane-powered El Camino is that I can’t ever remember being embarrassed by it. I drove the crap out of that pig. I schlepped people around in it. Picked up groceries for my mom. Went on dates to the drive-in. Beep! Beep! I loved my El Camino. (After I took beginning Spanish and learned that it meant ‘The Road’ I liked it even more.)I guess I knew that it was funny looking, but I never felt like I was my car. I was a person. My car was just the thing I drove. But I might be in the minority here. What do you think? Does your high school car define you? Maybe mine defined me and I wasn’t self-aware enough to realize it. Of course I was aware of the limitations. No backseat. Constant smell of chemical odorant mercaptan.Couldn’t go grocery shopping in the rain. Could only gas it at Petrolane Stores and had to exit the vehicle and stand behind the safe yellow line until all valves were resealed and secured. (Sometimes I’d get a rebel gas attendant who’d let me stay in the vehicle during the fueling process. Then, I took it as a flirtatious gesture. Now, I’d see that as flammable laziness.)
So there’s the story of my high school wheels. What do you or did you drive? And what do you think it says about you?
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