A friend was reminiscing about a car she owned that was her favorite. Which got me thinking about my first car. It would bee too strong a word to say that this was my favorite car; memorable would be more fitting. My yellow, Ford hand-me-down Pinto. It was nicknamed the Stryper car after the notorious 80's Christian rock band. It sported a faux leather black interior, which knocked its temperature another 50 degrees higher in the summers. The upside was that it was fairly reliable and cheap to run. And that is where the goodness ends. Now I can see that it did portray some element of design that will never grace most cars again, but still.
I can mostly talk about what it didn't have. It would have befitted a show like Seinfeld well, because it was a car about nothing. It had only AM radio, so for four years of college I listened to WCCO talk shows. Listening to that is like putting me into my own personal jail cell, but at least it provided background noise. It didn't weigh much. I found that out by pushing it out of no less than seven ditches by on back country roads where you get it out yourself or spend the night. It had one button for heat and it is good that the manufacturer didn't waste plastic on more because the heat never worked. I drove to college in a sleeping bag. Scraping the frost was easy because it was on the inside. It didn't have enough space, but I could squeeze five in a pinch if someone sat in the atrium like compartment in the back. Remember that giant window? It was the heaviest thing on the car. But at least it had solid floorboards, something to be really grateful for because I owned another car, briefly, in which they where rusted out. The joke there was that you only had to start the car like a Flinstone.
Finally, it was passed on because in my family, cars never died. There was always someone else to pass them along that could make a few fixes and eek out a couple of more miles. Besides, I think my odometer conked out at 300 miles and so really, does it matter anymore after that?
5 comments:
You rode your Pinto to 300,000!?! Did I read your intent right? If so... that has to be some kind of record - call Guiness!! Yeah... that was one of Tallulahs downfalls; she was a big girl, so if ya got stuck, you were spending the night (which wasn't so bad with a queen-size space in the back). That wicked V8 was able to pull us out of most jams though (and, of course, the car-mat method we used on your van once) ;-)... Great blog, Pam!
Well, some artistic license was taken on that post...
300,000 miles. Nearly.
Ah, memories.
Reminded me of my red "vet" as in Chevette! And remember all of Chris' green beaters?!! Good times!
Boy do I recall Chris's green beaters. One after another, after another. But hey, before I could drive she was my ride.
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