This past week I’ve had the pleasure of watching as one of my daughters achieved a milestone that she will never forget. She’d been working incredibly hard in multiple jobs and had managed to save up enough money to buy her first car.
There’s something really special about your first car. Yes, in your late teens it represents the single biggest purchase you may have made in your life up until that date, but your first car is a lot more than just an asset. It represents a sense of new found freedom and that you’re beginning to cut the parental strings.
“What time will you be home?” is answered somewhat like, “When the car brings me.”
I remember my first car, it was a Mazda 1200. Sounds really sporty until you realise the 1200 stands for the size of the engine in millilitres. For those of you that aren’t enlightened about the wonders of the metric system and how everything ends in zero then this is about 2.536 pints. A simpler way of understanding the engine size is to imagine a reasonable sized motorbike engine and then say to yourself, “That looks about right.”
My first car cost me $200 and came with air conditioning. Well, sort of anyway. The floor was so rusted out that you would get a beautiful rush of air that tickled your toes as you drove down the road. This was great in summer but in winter it was miserable until I squashed a few coke cans down to cover the holes.
The driver seat was bent way back and so being an enterprising young man I built it up with some blankets so that I didn’t feel like I was in a recliner lounge as I drove down the road.