Sunday, June 20, 2010

Vroom Vroom




When you turn 16 in my hometown, you get a car. There are exceptions to this of course, as with everything in life, but I was not one of them. Right around my birthday the car talk surfaced and the hunt began. It was a very short hunt. I fell madly in love with a red 1992 Volvo from Deluca Auto in Pleasantville. Deluca's was a car repair that had a lot full of unwanted, barley working hunks of metal. Most kids in my grade were settling into fresh BMWs and "lightly used" Acuras. But I was in love. Her $2,500 price tag didn't bother me in the least. She wasn't sparkling, and she didn't purr when I entered the highway but she was perfect. I called her the dinosaur because she was extremely boxy. Her tape player (yes, tape) didn't work so I drove around delightfully singing along with the crackling radio. I glued pom poms to her dashboard and quickly dressed her seats in plush cow print seat covers. Wooden butterflies dangled from her review mirror.
What an exciting time that is. It quickly dawned on me that I didn't need my parents to drive me to the mall. If I wanted to go, I could go. That was a feeling that is hard to explain in words. I was loose from the grips of my parents forever. I was unstoppable and this giant clunky Dino-box was my fellow traveler and passport.
Unfortunately, my big red companion (I should have named her Clifford the big red Volvo!) only spent a year by my side before she was laid to rest. On one of our spontaneous adventures to uncharted territories (A trip to A.C. Moore in an unfamiliar town 20 minutes up the highway) I failed to keep her safe. I was texting my mom for directions (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!) when I rear ended another fellow Volvo. Their car had minimal damage and they drove off but my poor friend's bumper was damaged beyond repair, and they declared her dead, or totaled.
At the time my heart was broken and I didn't think I could ever feel the same kind of love for another car. I was right, but time heals all and eventually I moved on. After a string of thousand dollar Deluca Auto cars I settled on a Toyota Matrix. My parents were sick of the cheap cars only lasting months at a time. The second one I got, another Volvo, caught fire while me and my boyfriend were only a mile away from the house. We pulled over once I noticed the hood was on fire and quickly gathered my purse, groceries and most importantly Bug! Minutes after the entire car was engulfed in bright red flames, and I kid you not, it burned to the ground leaving a pile of dust on the side of our local road. After that I got a purple Buick that ended up not having air bags (whoops).
The Matrix did it's job well. It was the perfect car for short notice camping trips and for toting the muddy mutts all over town. I was able to fit my entire dorm room in it when college rolled around. The folding back seats allowed for ample junk room. Perfect for side walk sales and trips to Ikea. The carpeted seats were easy to clean and never once smelled like the dog butts that so often occupied them. It seemed like the ideal car. But after going through so many cars in so little time I had become accustomed to the change. After about three years I began to feel the itch. The itch of wanting, longing and needed a change. After my first winter in NH I had found my excuse.
"Dad, I just don't feel safe in the Matrix up here in the winter. Since it doesn't have four wheel drive it just slips and slides all over the damn place."
Safety is a parents top priority so I knew this couldn't fail, and I was right. What I didn't know, however, is that my begging and pleading for a safer vehicle would result in my cruising around Rindge NH in a swanky little Mercedes Benz.
I had my eyes on another Volvo. A black C30. It's seats folded down just like the matrix, and despite being about 1/8th the size I was sure some how, some way, I would be able to fit dogs, friends, and luggage with ease. Or I would just tell my friends to walk from now on. Luckily, my boyfriend is a tad more practical than me. When my parents put a used Benz in the mix I was stuck. Cute little zippy Volvo- or hot used Benz? In a rare twist I actually wanted the Volvo more. Then Ryan intervened with his practical thinking.
"You'll regret it if you choose the Volvo. It will only be cute for so long before you realize you could have had a Benz!" He assured me.
He was right. I bit my lip and made the trip home to test drive the silver C280 Benz. It was love at first drive. Driving her home felt like winning the lottery. Every time I get in my car (now named Heidi- after the German supermodel) I feel like I'm winning the lottery over and over again. She is classy and dignified and sexy as all hell. It's hard not to have confidence driving her around. Even Bug feels cool hanging his head out of a Benz, slobber and all!

No comments:

Post a Comment