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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