Friday, May 15, 2015

Coming full circle -- in my car


          The first thing I did on my 15th birthday was stand in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles in Baker, La. so I could earn my driver’s license. I was there before the office opened because I couldn’t wait to start driving legally.

          I always wanted to drive, and I begged to sit next to my dad on long car trips. He’d explain how to keep up with traffic, how to merge and how to conquer the interstate.

In town, I practiced in our old Ford sedan. I don’t remember much about that car except it was a standard with the stick shift on the steering column and it was fast.

          When I was a senior in high school, my dad gave me his old Pontiac Executive. That car was a lumbering tank, and five could sit across the back seat with no problem.

          The car had a few issues – I had to pump the brakes to stop and mornings required my holding the choke valve closed so my brother could crank it up.

          But the car was mine, and it was a sad day when we sold that Pontiac. After that came a few junkers until I bought my very first car – a white 1980 Honda that was just right as it was usually just me and our eldest son.

          But as much as I liked that little car, eventually we had to get a bigger vehicle for our growing family, and we became owners of a minivan, the suburban parents’ go-to vehicle.

          Although some people turn their noses up at minivans, I loved ours. In fact, I loved our minivans so much, we owned two back to back to accommodate bats, bikes and boys.

          I pushed our last van a little too far, though. I didn’t want to put 600 miles on a new vehicle, so I took our aging minivan to Louisiana one last time.

          That was a huge mistake as it kept overheating. I finally called my husband to rescue us in Beaumont, and that was the last time I saw our minivan.

          By this time, though, our boys were grown, and it was time to downsize. I bought a sedan and came to enjoy a smaller car.

When my father passed away, I cried almost every afternoon in that car, missing my dad so much, I thought my heart would break.

          One afternoon, somebody rear ended me and bent the frame. When I saw the car in the junk yard, I thought I’d be happy to see that sad car out of my life, but I stood there and cried one last time for the loss of my safe place.

          Two more sedans followed; but as our grandchildren now number four, we decided to move back up to a larger vehicle to accommodate the youngsters.

          It might seem odd to upsize, but the right car’s been in my life at the right time.

A huge Pontiac Executive kept a know-it-all teenager safe and sound. That little white Honda was sporty and economical, just like my life.

          The minivans suited our family perfectly; and when I transitioned from a baseball mom to a working woman, sedans fit the bill.

Now I’ve moved into needing a vehicle that will keep our grandchildren safe and sound.

          Because I’m hoping one day my granddaughter will sit in the front and we can talk about the rules of the road and the joy of driving.

          And come full circle.     

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

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