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Saturday, April 23, 2011

Thinking about freedom to do what I want

I currently have no restrictions on me - I can eat what I can stand (yeah, that whole 'lost taste' thing I don't see as a restriction), go where I want, drive when I want to drive. I know I have had restrictions on me in the past (just healing up from an operation can leave one feeling restricted), and will have them again in the future. Of course, my cars have always represented freedom to me, especially my first one and my current one. I submitted a story about my first car and won a contest calling for stories about 'beater cars' by the best repair shop in Omaha - Charlie Graham - with this story (added some edits), and I thought the trip down my memory lane might be of interest to others here. Let me know if you have stories to share in the comments!

Freedom is the best way to describe beater cars. I had an ice scraper for the inside of my robin's egg blue '66 Dodge Dart windshield, until I figured out I just had to pull out the glove box and physically flip the switch that allowed the radiator and heater core to talk to one another. I threw newspapers daily in all weather to 110 customers for a year to save up the money. I bought it in 1978 from a family of 5 sons. All of them learned to drive on it, and the last one that had the title in his name was on a nuclear sub. I had to wait for him to sign over the title via top secret mail service. I called it the Blue Angel, since I had a thing for flying. Thanks to my public library, and the help of Chilton Guides, I learned to maintain it as well as change a water pump (and figure out that heater problem!) I sold it to a friend when I moved on to my next car, and learned they turned it into a demolition derby car. A fitting end to a car with heart.


Anonymous said...

Blue Angel! I knew a woman in Dallas back in the '80s who named her car Blue Angel.

She was the first person I knew to name a car. From her influence I named my next car, Sir. Sir was a beautiful silver 1986 Toyota MR2.

I took three buses each way to work for a year to save up for my new car. My other car was totalled in a freak accident. A crazy ex-boyfriend was hidding in the back of it one night. When I realized he was there I took my eyes off the road and my hands off the wheel...while I screamed. I didn't turn with the road and drove it into a tree.

I named the car "Sir" because I had to take a 5 year note and felt I should show it some respect.

Sir and I were together for 11 years. Damn, I loved that car.

Thanks for the drive down memory lane Cheeky.


Teresa Hartman said...

Wow, what a story! Glad to give you the chance to visit memory lane, newtothis. And your story shows how much sacrifice we often put into getting wheels.

A2 Librarian said...

Loved your story, Teri. I hope you are having a "sunshine" day. 8o)

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