Sunday, June 03, 2012


My first car. 

It was not the first car I drove, but it was mine to drive.....once I was licensed.

I can remember driving lessons with my mother. We would drive on the truck route....the loop around our town (that took all of 7 minutes to complete....IF you drove the speed limit.) 

Anyway, these driving lessons were in a 4-door Buick Park Avenue. I'm stunned that my mother allowed me to drive it. She never did let me take it "up-town" to drag main. But, I did. 

Several times, as a freshman in high school, my parents would go out with some friends. I would call my friend *B* and tell her that I had the keys and off we would go. Keep in mind that if I would have gotten caught by the police....well, there would be many issues. My daddy would have strung me up. My mother would have started hiding her keys. And, no telling what the police would do, as I wasn't licensed. 

Yeah, I got this car for my 16th birthday. I was totally surprised. 

A red (with white interior)  5-speed Toyota Celica. It was sweet!

I couldn't drive it for a week or 2 after I got it, because I wasn't licensed. 

In my home town you took your driving test on Tuesday's. SO, the Tuesday just after my birthday, I went for my test....the written test, then the driving test. I think I made a 100 on paper and a 98 on the street. 

The thing that was scarier than anything was the parallel parking. Really....who does that anymore? But, still.... I had to do it for my test. To prepare, I practiced driving and parking in the Buick. In reality, I took the test in my aunt's 2 door Pontiac Grand Am. 

During the 2 weeks between receiving the car, and taking my driving test, my dad started giving me lessons in MY car. My car was a 5-speed. I had never before driven a stick. I was NOT going to drive MY car to school, on the 1st Wednesday that I was licensed, and lurch out of 1st gear....or worse.... STALL!

My grandparents lived on the edge of city limits. Just on the other side of their house, were the practice baseball fields. Basically..... a pasture. So, my dad drove the car and explained the gears and how to shift. Then, he said he wanted me to practice driving, parking, killing the car, starting the car, backing up, and driving. THEN, he got out of the car and said he was going for some coffee. He walked across the pasture and entered my grandparent's house. I spent the next few hours practicing driving my car.

I have so many wonderful memories around that car. 

I carted *hot* road signs in that car. 

I would pack in about 8 friends to go to a party. 

I was designated driver in that car.

I had glass-packs.....fake, ghetto glass-packs. LOL!!! (Truly, it was a hole in the muffler.)

I went through a phase of having to start my car with a screw-driver. Really. A screw-driver.

I had an awesome sound system. (My dad worked on, and installed radios, so mine was great.)

I had a sun roof!

I busted out the side-view mirror by speeding through the back dirt roads to get home on time.

I ran over a mesquite tree.  (IN MY DEFENSE: I was not the first one to hit it. Someone else had already hit it and drug it out onto the aforementioned dirt road.) (Both the busted mirror and running over the tree happened on the same night.)

Good times.......good times.

1 comment:

Laurel Santiago said...

You used to take me for rides in that little red car when I was about 12. Whoo hoo! I thought that was the BEST thing in the world, and you always got me home on time, because you were probably the ONLY friend that I had that completely understand the importance for keeping the parent people happy. :)