This is my first car, a 1982 Oldsmobile Firenza that I named "Burner."
Don't laugh.
It was as stick shift so I felt like a race car driver.
It had a little orange light on the dash that would light up and say "shift" when it was time to shift to the next gear. I hated that light. I covered it with an "Abolish Apartheid" sticker so that instead of telling me to shift all the time, my car would light up to make a political statement instead. (South Africa officially abolished apartheid in 1991, btw--I'm sure it was all because of my car).
And even though I never would have chosen the color, or the family four-door styling, I loved this car. It was my freedom.
My wheels.
It's decorated here for homecoming of my senior year at Northglenn High School (not sure why I wrote "NGHS" on my car when Northglenn is clearly one word, so NHS?).
This is the car that terrified me until I figured out the clutch. All it took was my brother John taking me for one driving lesson after my mom had tried to explain to me how the clutch worked. Her explanation did not work. John's did.
This is the car that used to take me on afternoon adventures where I would point at the mountains and just drive west from Westminster until I hit them (ended up in Eldorado Canyon one day doing that).
This is the car that went on Slurpee runs and through the drive through at Taco Bell umpteen times for taco salads and bean burritos.
This is the car that used to drive too fast through the abandoned drive-in movie theater, catching air on the little hills that you would park your car on so your seats would be appropriately reclined for viewing the screen (don't tell my parents I did that, k?).
This is the car I got my one and only speeding ticket in. The car I wrecked (totaled actually, but we fixed it anyhow--see you can't even tell in this picture, can you?). (Okay, so maybe 16 was my worst year of driving--totally safe since then).
This is the car that Jeremy borrowed on homecoming afternoon so he could pick me up to take me to dinner and to the dance (after he spread rumors that I said I didn't want to go to homecoming with him anymore because he didn't have a car himself) (I DID NOT say that).
This is the car that lost its muffler when I went over train tracks too fast trying to find Paris on the Platte (again, the year of 16).
This is the car I sat in after my junior year spring band concert where I found out I had been selected as drum major for senior year--I turned on the radio and "I wish It Would Rain" by Phil Collins came on, and I knew it was a sign from the universe that my senior band season was going to rock (we had taken state sophomore year in the rain, so the rain had kind of become this thing for us). (see the photo below for evidence of how we did indeed rock our senior season)
This is the car the trumpet section blocked in totally--like completely surrounded with cars on all sides--after marching band practice one day while the color guard captain and I were talking with the band director. They blocked in her car too, and none of the perpetrators were anywhere to be seen to move their cars. We were stuck. So we pushed Paul Teddy's Jeep onto the baseball field and I think somehow locked it behind a gate? How did we do that?
This is the car that I drove in with the windows down and the music blasting on summer nights--cool night air my companion as I drove home by curfew.
This is the car that stalled out on me at the Quebec street exit off of 270 one frigid below zero December night. The heat wasn't working either, and I had just driven from Boulder, and I was dressed for the ballet that I was going to with Becca (no boots, no warm socks...). I thought I was going to freeze there on the shoulder of the exit ramp, but somehow I got it to start again and limp along for another couple of miles, which was far enough to get me where I was going.
This is the car that took me to college.
This is the car I sadly had to say goodbye to in 1994, replaced by a white Ford Escort named "Snoopy." What an annoying car--but I won't complain. My parents handed me the title when I graduated from college. It never once broke down on me (not even when the tires were horribly worn and Snoopy was loaded down with all my worldly possessions as I moved from Missoula to Seattle in 1996--not sure how the tires didn't explode on me on that drive).
I miss that car.
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| color guard captains Keri and Beth, drum major me, drum captain Eric, holding our state championship swag |
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| doing my drum major thing |
