I have never by any stretch considered myself a "car" person. My relationships with the vehicles I have utilized to haul myself and my accompanying stuff from place to place have always been of the love-hate variety, and mostly somewhere in between, but tending toward the latter. I must admit to having drifted into and out of phases where I fancied my identity somehow connected to my ride, and even have occasionally entertained briefly the notion that I had the mechanical expertise, dexterity, and patience required to maintenance my own motorcar. This usually has ended badly, resulting in an eruption of exhaustive and heartfelt profanity, bloody knuckles, and badly bent tools and auto parts.
I was recently engaged in yet another adventure in automotive upkeep, having had an encounter with an unseen object located in the path of my high-priced Michelin steel-belted radial tires and the equally expensive alloy wheels on which they reside. This obstacle managed to blow out the side of the tire (rendering it unrepairable) and took a chunk out of the rim as well (making it worthless, too). As I am on an already thinly stretched budget, I first undertook to find a used wheel at one of those find-it-yourself junkyards, instead of ordering a new one. Great idea in concept...... but I wasn't feeling so smart after a couple of hours of wandering the endless acreage of seemingly randomly scattered hulks of deceased clunkers, in 90-plus degree heat, getting no help from the proprietors, whose native language was not my own, and vice-versa. And every vehicle even remotely similar to mine, as it turned out, had already been relieved of all four wheels.
Anyway, the story has a happy ending, and I hope to live happily ever after with my new wheel and the almost-new tire that came already installed on it- thanks to the high-tech junkyard where I ended up, never even setting foot amongst the wrecked carcasses. But it got me thinking about the lineage of vehicles I have been connected to, and the associated emotional attachments (or, in some cases, the lack thereof). And so I submit the following illustrated history of my own personal modes of transport, and I'll try to be brief:
1965 (or so) Buick Skylark Sport Wagon
A former family vehicle ultimately enlisted as wheels during my second year of college, notable for the spacious cargo area, which accommodated several kegs easily, and "slept" two comfortably, offering impressive vistas of the night-time sky.
1966 (or so) Ford Galaxy
Another erstwhile family car, which was passed around amongst several of my siblings before I finally put it out of its misery. Excellent reverse gear and ability to back out of ditches early in the morning.
1963 (or so) Ford Falcon Convertible
The first vehicle ever with my name on the title. Took me to Jacksonville Florida the summer that I turned twenty-one, so was truly my coming-of-age-vehicle. Ultimately abandoned on I-95 when a buddy ran it out of oil. It truly deserved better.
1963 Jaguar XKE
Purchased between stints in college, and responsible for my fling with Miss South Carolina 1973 (runner-up), this vehicle proved entirely inappropriate for a broke college student, requiring constant and expensive upkeep (see above reference to blue language and bloody knuckles).
1964 (or so) Opel Kadet Wagon
An eminently forgetable ride, especially after the jag..........
1978 Mazda GLC Wagon
Anticipated as being my "family car", purchased during a three-year affair with my art history professor, who also ultimately deserved better.......
1984 Ford Thunderbird
My second shot at claiming identity via wheels, fairly unsuccessfully- I dented the fender the first month and drove it that way for three years.
1989 Ford Bronco II
My Dad had one of these- I drove mine until it died.
1994 Chevrolet S-10 Pickup
No question about it, this little truck was the best vehicular investment I ever made. It served me well, seeing me through the renovation/construction of my current residence. It succumbed when I unwisely loaned it to a recovering alcoholic who promptly relapsed and abused it to the point that it never recovered. Never give anything to an AA buddy that you might actually want back.
1993 Mercedes
Marks the point at which I became a two-car family. I spent more keeping it running than I paid for it.
1996 Ford Explorer
Inherited from my Dad when he went into the nursing home, it became a handy utility vehicle and band-equipment hauler until one late night returning from a gig, when a cell-phone-using teenager turned in front of it. Then his girlfriend had the temerity to accuse me of being too old to drive! The car was totaled, but insurance paid for another. (No, not the Z3!)
1998 BMW Z3
I have finally arrived as a "car guy"! No, wait..... had to sell it when work evaporated- no longer a multi-vehicle household.......
1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee
A humble, but utilitarian ride. If I can just get a few more miles and years out of it, I'll be ready for a bicycle by the time it's done. And I'll go there happily.
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