I got behind a pokey little red car on the road this evening. Nothing unusual there; I’ve had a rash of getting behind slow people this week. It sort of itches.
While I was breathing deeply and reminding myself that it wouldn’t matter if I got home now or in five minutes, I started thinking about my first car. It was a brown 4-speed 1979 Chevette that did 0-60 in 1.3 minutes, but the radio was tricked out with a cassette player, and my aunt gave me a set of fuzzy dice to hang from the rearview, so I was set. I drove it to school every day during my senior year. Ah, independence! To this day, I think of this car on warm spring nights that smell like honeysuckle, when the humidity is high enough to caress my skin without being oppressive, and Journey comes on the radio. On those nights, the windows go down, the music goes up, and I don’t care who hears me.
What was your first car?