The Good and Bad Memories of My First Car

My first car was a 1987 Buick Regal, maroon in color, it was a big square pimp mobile. Well, after adding some decent speakers and a CD player it was a big square pimp mobile, in theory, turns out ladies aren't drawn to 1987 Buick Regals so much.

I paid for the Buick via checks every month to a local used car dealership. Hardee's fast food employed me at sixteen and my boss slave drove me into some hefty paychecks, so I never missed a payment. Even though it was my car and I paid for everything from the payment to the insurance to repairs, my mother also had her name on the title of the car due to my being a minor when I got it. This little detail would prove to be a problem after I was eighteen and mom decided I was still minor enough for her to decide what I could and could not do. Let's get to the negative later though, because that is how the car's life ended. Let's visit the good times first.

Aside from being a ride to work, my Buick Regal also became a machine for adventure transportation. My best buddy and I would take it up and down every road, paved or not, in our rural community seeing where they would take us. I suppose we never ended up anywhere particularly exciting, unless you want to count "Pig Hollow" a road that went from gravel no road at all, landing us in a field area where a chain strung across the path we were forging ended forward progress. Of course we told everyone we knew about this creepy road and let them know that you could go out there to see ghosts.

Driving down the road really fast and backwards became a habit of mine, often times with friends launching fireworks out of the windows. This habit broke one day when I almost went off of the side of a bridge after spinning the car back around from its reverse position.

The Buick lasted me around two years and in that time I did bang into a couple of deer, but the only serious damage ever rendered unto the vehicle was radiator trauma. I was semi-dating a girl who was fully dating another guy and she was heading out to my house for a makeout session, driving her boyfriend's truck of course. It was a wet and rainy day as I followed her on the road in my car and the deer struck again, leaping out in front of her, she slammed on her brakes. I braked as well, but the wet road did not allow me to stop and the Buick slid at an angle into the rear of the truck. The trailer hitch on the truck tore through the front of my car and damaged the radiator pretty bad. It wasn't a terrible stress to get it fixed though.

I lost my virginity in the 1987 Buick Regal. A girl and I went out on our first date to see a Jim Carey movie at the theater. Maybe she was turned on by giggling or maybe Carey's elastic face was a major aphrodisiac, or perhaps I wasn't as goofy looking as I thought, but this girl was eager to get into my pants while I was still driving us down the road to take her home. Okay, in retrospect I bet I was goofy looking because as it turns out this girl was eager to get into anyone's pants, but in the moment I did not care that I was a tally mark, and pulled us into her parents driveway late at night happy to oblige her desires. The front seat area was spacious enough that we were able to erotically maneuver up there up until the point that my leg bumped against the car horn. Yep, there we were naked and parked outside her parents house, their bedroom window directly in front of the driveway, and I laid out on the horn, blaringly loud. Needless to say that ended the romance and we dressed, and bounded out of the car to act all innocent on the front porch.

All of the trouble I could have seriously gotten into with my first car wasn't what finally did the vehicle in. Actually, the car could still be alive out there somewhere for all I know. As I was getting closer to going off to college my mother decided she did not like me driving into town whenever I felt like it or dating girls. One time I drove into town to eat dinner at my fast food place of employment and after I pulled into the parking lot two cop cars swarmed in to trap me. It turns out my mom did not want me to drive into town and had reported the car stolen to teach me a lesson. The cops made me go back home because she could prove her name was also on the title of the vehicle. I was never a rebellious kid, but I felt like my mother was pushing me into no other option, but to become one.

I was at my girlfriend's house one night when my mother and stepfather drove in stealth mode and stole my car from the driveway with the spare key. When I noticed the car gone and called my mother, she told me that they took the car and that if I wanted it again I would have to come home and not be going to this girl's house anymore. My response was to tell my mother to drive the car up her butt. My biological father was quite proud of me when he heard I said such a thing. I did not go home and a couple of days later my mother sold MY car. Indeed I went home after that, to get my things, and to move out. It wasn't exactly a smooth transition into adulthood out of the nest for me and I got stuck living with a girlfriend I wasn't even all that happy with and would have left if my parents had just stayed out of my business.

I do not know what ever happened to my 1987 Buick Regal, perhaps someone else bought it and had more luck than I overall. Yes, I got lucky in the car and had some fun, but ultimately my first automobile was a negative catalyst in my early adulthood and I wish it had been a fancier sports car or muscle car because if it had been a TRUE pimp mobile, I might have gotten some higher class female attention worthy of my parents approval or something.