Somewhere around age 24 I decided it was time to buy a car. I had dropped out of graduate school and had a job. Sitting one evening reading the City Paper in the 98 degree, sticky Baltimore heat, my eyes fell on an advertisement for a “Chevette, $1100, 68,000 miles, runs good.” That’s the one for me, I thought and the very next day I took the bus uptown and bought it. Yes, I knew that the accepted process involves testing lots of cars, having them vetted by a mechanic, and thinking it over, but this was too important a decision to dilly-dally like that.
A friend drove me for the three trips to the DMV required to get it registered. The first trip taught me you needed insurance before registration. The second trip taught me you needed to make sure the seller gave you the document called Lien Release. The third trip got me my tags and my freedom. I drove straight out of town. I was quite undeterred by losing so much power going up the big hill on I-83 that I had to drive on the shoulder to the next exit. I just stayed off the highway after that. In McConellsburg, PA a fierce storm blew up, removing all visibility and I had to pull over because I didn’t yet know how to turn on the wipers. When the squall passed, I saw that I had narrowly missed a drop-off by the edge of the road. Yikes. It was clearly a sign that I should spend the night somewhere – and there was Johnny’s Motel. The next day I drove home.
A lady at work recommended her boyfriend as a mechanic. His shop was only a few block from my apartment. He gave me various explanations about the ills of the car that were inconsistent even to a non-mechanically educated person such as myself, but I paid him the $300 to reattach various vacuum hoses, replace a broken spring and do whatever that inconsistent thing was. Even though I never quite trusted his explanations, I always went to him and he did fine over the years by my car, which became quite the workhorse. I drove back and forth to Chicago. I went everywhere and loved every aspect of that car, including the comments and alarm its fabulous clanking noises inspired. I even learned to appreciate country music, the only kind offered up by its AM radio.
My friend Maia and I have a set piece we sometimes do in which I emote about the wonders of my beloved little car and she – whose car tastes run to big old boats that sail down the road consuming gas measured in gallons per mile – counters with all the reasons it was a piece of s—t death-trap. Needless to say, over the eight years I drove that thing, it offered up plenty of material for both of us to use in our lines, though my stories support her side as often as not.
My faithfulness to the mechanic was definitely rewarded about seven years later. I had gotten both a degree and a teaching job, and the beloved chevette was now taking me 70 miles west to work every day. But one evening the clutch handle broke off. I left my car in the turn ramp and a lady gave me a ride to a gas station where I used the phone. The mechanic said, “You’re WHERE??” (translation: unsafe neighborhood) I didn’t feel unsafe but was quite delighted that his next words were “Don’t move, darling, we’re coming to get you.”
The reference in the picture is to a married couple that appears in the movie When Harry Met Sally, which is interlaced with old married couples describing how they met. In one couple the woman does all the talking. She saw her husband to be and “I just knew he was the one. You know, the way you just know a good melon.”
I'm glad it turned out to be a melon instead of a "Lemon"
My husband and I have made every decision just the way that you describe. We met and knew it was forever, moved 1300 miles because we heard three different people mention the town, said yes to the house we bought instantly, yes to the adoption. If both of "our guts" said yes we always do it.
Well done Francoise another good story and picture, I wish I could be more impulsive, but I am a very earthy, slow, steady, Capricorn..... and boring (I'm sure) with it.
but that's a cantaloupe! :-) your story reminds me why i never wanted car. that said, i learned to drive because of necessity. but i don't care for all the expenses and hassles that go with owning a car. mr. hertz, mrs. budget and monsieur avis are my friends. wonderful story, francoise. i really enjoyed it.
Fun story!! I did not learn to drive until I was 24! I did have Driver's Ed while in High School- even had my permit. But my father was in panic mode teaching me how to drive (I was the first and I don't think he was ready for any of his daughters to drive then) and my mother was in the worst stage of her alcoholism. She was usually drunk when she'd let me drive and I would think "She can't control the car and neither can I!" So when it came time for my test, I let it slide. I didn't need it during my college days and even through the first two years of our marriage it was unnecessary since we lived one block from town. But after my son was born I started realizing that if something happened to my baby, I was unable to get him to a doctor. And then I decided to pursue my MFA and I needed to be able to get to the classes, so my husband and a friend taught me how to drive. Like you, once I had my hands on a steering wheel, I discovered how much fun it was to have the freedom to get up and go. My friends are still amazed that I have practically driven half way across the country on my own. What's so surprising about that? A sunny day, good music in the tape player and an open highway? It screams "Take a drive!"
October 1st, 2014
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My husband and I have made every decision just the way that you describe. We met and knew it was forever, moved 1300 miles because we heard three different people mention the town, said yes to the house we bought instantly, yes to the adoption. If both of "our guts" said yes we always do it.