Friday, November 11, 2011


I'm not a motorhead.  I have always said that a good car is just a car that gets me from Point A to Point B without me having to wonder if I'm going to make it there or not.  I've had a LOT of crazy cars is my time, and now that I am used to having a dependable vehicle, I don't think about cars much anymore.

But I have a dream car.  And as time goes on, I think about it more.  Especially because one is featured in one of the tv shows that hubby and I are watching lately.  First, allow me to give you my vehicular history: my first car was actually my brother's, but we sort of shared it during my junior year in high school.  I loved that car, and I have fond memories of it.  It was a 1964 Ford Falcon.  I moved out of state the summer before my senior year in high school, and my brother kept it with him at college, and wrecked it a while later.  But it was good while it lasted.

After I got to Minnesota, dad got me a little Chevy Chevette.  It looked like this one in the picture, but it was solid poop brown.  It actually looked like a poop.  And it would backfire REALLY super loud and pour out black smoke from the tail end occasionally, which was sweet.  Especially since I was the new kid at a rich school  where all the kids drove either a new Bronco II or a VW Cabrioulet.  Awesome.  It had no radio so I had this little pink portable radio/cassette player that I put on the dashboard.  It had no floor under the passenger side front seat, just carpet.  You could literally lift up the carpet and watch the highway race by under your feet.  True story:  I was driving to my first real full-time administrative job at the University, my FIRST DAY no less, and it was raining.  I hit a huge puddle and a blast of water shot up through the floor, around the windows up the passenger door, along the ceiling of the car, and dumped down on my head.  It was so great.

That car died after a while, good riddance, and then in college for a short time I drove a Dodge Colt that I got from a boyfriend's friend.  It was a manual transmission with a skull on the gear shift.  It looked like this one, but totally matte orangish-red.  And rusty.  It didn't have 2nd, 4th, or reverse gears, so I had to go from 1st to 3rd to 5th, and I could never parallel park.  I would have to drive through open parking spaces and park facing out so I wouldn't need reverse.  And I'd have to parallel park butted up to a driveway so I'd have room to pull out.  And it only started sometimes.  So one time at the University, they were doing street cleaning.  Since I rarely drove, I didn't pay any attention to the signs to remove your car from the street, so my car got ticketed and towed.  I just let them keep it.

Then there was the Ford Tempo that had electrical problems.  I had to stick a hairbrush in this little butterfly thing in the engine (I know, you'd never know my dad was a mechanic) to keep in running, and sometimes on the highway it would just quit.  I'd have to pull over and jiggle some wires to get it going again.  That car only lasted a couple months.

And then my fiance (now the hubby of course) bought me a car.  A new car (well, almost new).  It was so beautiful.  A Ford Contour, 1992, beautiful shimmery light blue.  I loved it.  I drove it for a few years, until an incident on the highway with a chunk of debris that went under the car and damaged the car so bad we had to total it.  My car accident woes are a topic for a whole different post, by the way.  So I'll leave it at that.

But now I have had a string of very reliable, albeit not-so-exciting cars.  I've gone through Cadillacs, conversion vans, and now I'm driving my second Ford Focus.  We got it new in 2009, and I LOVE it.  I really do.  It's a nice size, it's got great mileage, it's roomy, and it's cute.  I'm happy with it.

But here's my dream car.  I've loved them ever since I can remember, and the perfect one is driven by the wife in Breaking Bad.  I WANT ONE SO BAD!!!!  They're boxy and cool, and you can still find them for sale.  Unfortunately, they're usually too rusty, but I'm trying to get hubby to hunt for one in really good condition.  I.  Want.  This.  Car.  The Jeep Wagoneer, any time from a late 70's model to a mid to late 80's model.  Red, Silver, Brown, whatever.  I just want one.  With shag carpeting.  Be still my heart. Maybe that would be a good Christmas present. . . .

1 comment:

  1. I didn't wreck the Falcon! It could no longer make it over the pass between Cheyenne and Laramie. It'd make this horrible screeching sound. Dreadful, like a person being tortured.

    I loved that car. Wish I still had it. Dad always laughed at what a piece of junk it was, but I still remember what it smelled like inside.

    Then there was the time Mica and I were driving it down a busy street and pieces started falling off it...