We all remember our first car.
Towards the end of my high school life I was a real shit-head. Cocky, no-it-all, ungrateful, etc.
I remember getting accepted in the UF school of music with an ok scholarship and deciding with my mother, to use my Florida pre-paid collage plan to get a car. This was a HUGE step but also a gamble.
I remember being jealous of all of my high school classmates who had cars, throwing that in my mom's face, and thinking that I deserved a car of my own. I remember fighting with my mom about what kind of car "I wanted":
Coupe (duh), something sporty, V6, needed to be FAST, cool, etc. My mother, of course, wanted 4 door, safe, ugly.
I threatened that if she bought me a car I didn't want I would just sell it (like I said, I was a complete shit-head).
About a month before I graduated high school my mom and I looked at a few cars, but soon found a pontiac vibe, with low miles at a local dealership. Being the car that someone I admired had, I was instantly ready to take a look.
I remember my mom talking to the salesman, offering the price we could afford, the salesman saying something to the effects of "don't you have a rich grandparent who can pay the rest".
Long story short, we walked.
A week passes by and the search continued. It wasn't until while I was at a lifeguarding class that my mother received a call that they WOULD in fact accept our price and then proceeded to pick me up with the keys in hand as well as a dealership booklet hyping this car.
Again, I was (am) a shit head and the countless stories and positive memories I have made with this car are punishment enough from my rotten 18 year old self.
When I drove the car off the lot for the first time it had 66,000 miles. I remember driving all the way around the 295 loop. It was awesome.
In the early days I washed and vacuumed it every Sunday after church.
About a month after we bought it the fuel pump went out and the hell my mother raised was unforgettable.
Many people say that they "love their car". What kind of love? Love in the way it looks? drives? makes people think a certain thing about you?
I love my car because of all of the memories it has given me.
The day before I graduated high school I drove my wife to Jax beach, watched the sunrise, and then blindfolded her and drove her all the way to Tampa, where I later that evening, during the sunset asker her to marry me.
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| she didn't even know what was coning. |
I started calling my car "Shelly", after a friends girlfriend. For some reason that name always stood out as a good car name (there is a fat joke in there somewhere).
Shelly took me and my then fiance safely back and forth from Clermont to Gainesville for 2 whole years. The 90 miles stretch of road between the two of us felt like an eternity, though Liz claims she made it in less than an hour when her BFF went into labor (BS if you ask me).
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Shelly in front of Liz's apartment
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I owe much of Liz's and I's long distance engagement success to my car. In addition to the weekly commute back and forth from Gainesville to Clermont we also ended up making 3 trips to Nashville and a big trip up the New Jersey, where the saga of the frozen windshield washer fluid still haunts me when I drive on the interstate when I drive near Washington DC.
I remember hearing a rhythmic *bump bump bump* the entire way home to NJ, only to be later diagnosed at a tire shop as an incredibly unsafe bubble in the tire and I quote "you wouldn't want to trust your life with that thing". But as always, Shelly got us home safe.
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Swimin' with the manatees.
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After getting married and getting settled in Gainesville, we ended up figuring out how to really put our car to work, putting one or two boats on top.
I owe 90% of my adventures to this car, allowing me to travel very far for a reasonably low price. The last 5 years were filled with memories and adventures that will be with me for the rest of my life.
I could write about my car for hours. I could write about how there is a stain on the passenger and driver side, each above the window, where Liz and my sister each tried to throw fruit out the window and missed (the stains are still there).
So I will end with this: On Tuesday my car hit 200,000 miles, approx 140,000 with me at the helm.
I still to this day feel convicted about how I acted towards my mother and how I thought I "deserved a car'. If karma was a thing and I was to get what I "deserved" it would be to have gotten in a fatal wreak on the test drive.
Instead I have a car that was and is a huge factor in the shaping of my life.
So thank you Mom, for still loving me even though I am a shit head.
