The first car I have a faint memory of was a '41Ford Coupe. Then maybe the Plymouth... But I didn't pay much attention to our car until I learned to drive. That was in a '53 Ford with a three-speed column shift and overdrive.
It had wide bench seats, a decent radio and was pleasant enough to drive. Whenever I see one, I want to stick my head in the window and take a deep breath to see if it has that musty old-cloth-upholstery-and-cigarette-smoke aroma I remember.My parents had a series of other cars: I recall a Pontiac Tempest and a Plymouth Barracuda (in which my friend Pat and I tilted the back seats to enjoy the view of the sky, slightly stoned).
After I left home, I didn't really drive again until a tall, dark, handsome man showed me that driving could be a sport ("A car is but a toy; life is just a game!"). He drove cars that could do things that were lots of fun, and some that were clearly illegal. His father, mother, sister, and brother drove sports cars with such delight (and skill) that I had to play, too - especially when our wedding present was a BMW2002.
Unfortunately, that was our last new car for 25 years. Can you believe we sold it to buy a well-used 3/4-ton pickup and a camper? But is was our snug home for several long stretches, and a handy "guest cottage" when we were posted on fire lookouts. Winter in Vermont turned out to be delightful, too.
From then on, Bill honed his mechanic skills on a series of fixer-uppers, and it taught me the value of having a AAA card. There was the Volvo whose hood flew up effectively blinding us, after which we had to pin the hood. We made stately progress in the '58 Mercedes - as did the rust eating away its body. We sold it because there were no seatbelts and we were in a carpool with neighbor children.
The diesel Peugeot had the best seats I've ever sat in, which almost offset the aggravation of waiting 5 minutes for the glo-plugs in the winter. Oh, and then there was the time the wiring harness burned up in a parking lot with the two girls who didn't much want to ride in the tow truck with Mr. Sketchy...
Finally, I was stranded once too often, and we traded in European (over)engineering for a Subaru Loyale wagon. For the next decade, Subaru wagons got me everywhere, every time, in all weather.
Unfortunately, our leap to (used) Legacy luxury was short-lived. The transmission blew up one morning on I-5, scaring the hell out of me.
Next, I was besotted with a 2003 Honda Element, which got us there with everything we wanted to haul along, and a number of things that should have been left behind. We tried to ignore the fact that it sullenly refused to give us more than 20 miles to the gallon.
In time, performance and dependability were no longer enough. We needed good karma, too. Fuel economy above all. So there were a series of Priuses that got 48-52 mpg.
They must have been engineered by 18th-century schoolmarms, because we were assaulted with "Right door is OPEN", and an assortment of loud bongs and beeps. So in 2018 we made the leap to an all-electric Nissal Leaf and wondered why all cars aren't this much fun to drive.
I wonder what's next?!
