In the summer
of ’84, between my junior and senior year of high school, I wanted to go buy a
car. My dad took me to a used car dealership in Phoenix. I’m not sure why that
particular one because it was not close to where we lived in Mesa. When we got
there, I saw this old three-door bronco with some really big tires for $2000. That
was the one I wanted. Next to it was a ’72 VW van for $1000. My dad said, “That’s
the one you’re getting” and since he was co-signing, I didn’t have much choice.
Also, I didn’t say “no” to my dad when I was a kid and even as an adult I’ve
struggled with having to say “no” to him.
I had it
about a month and my dad says, “We’re taking your car to CA to visit the
grandparents.” I told him I didn’t want to take it but that decision was not up
to me. We were about an hour out of town and the engine blows. It turned out
that the film on the dashboard was not dirt but oil. We towed it back and took my
parents’ 1971 VW van. It may be strange but as a kid I was proud that my car was
newer than my parents.
My car sat
broke down for a few of months and I told my dad that I thought he should
pay to have the engine rebuilt since he was the one that wanted to take it to
CA. He agreed to pay half. I was shocked that he agreed to pay that much but we
got it done. It was hard to come up with my half when I was making about $4.25/hr.
I drove this
car for three or four years. I don’t remember how or why I got rid of this car
but my guess is that it broke down and I couldn’t fix it. I do remember that my
first speeding ticket came the week or two after I got my next car, an
Oldsmobile from a family in the church. I didn’t realize how fast I was
going. I was used to the motor of the VW being a gauge to my speed and shifting
and when I went to an automatic I didn't have that engine noise anymore. I passed a patrol car going 40 in a 25 at 5am and
I didn’t even realize it. I was on my way to my drill weekend for the Marine
Corps and was in my cammi uniform but it didn’t get me out of the ticket.
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