My first one was a white VW (beetle the Egyptian symbol for infinite enlightenment) that I ran into the back of another kids car while fulfilling my duty for getting my 10th grade girlfriend pregnant. "All I want from you is take her to school and bring her home," she said her mom said. The first time I took her I slammed into that kids car and she busted the windshield with her head. She got knocked out but was ok my car wasn't. I didn't get asked again.
My 2nd a maroon 67 Nova that spun all the way around on ice when I should have been in school and was showing off for a new sweetie and ended up going off a little bridge and headlights first into a shallow creek.
3rd was a so-so but powerful Monte Carlo that shortly after graduation a friend drove it fast into a tree with me in the passenger seat. My head busted that windshield.
My 4th was a soulful old black pick up I loved. With a factory and wooden bed.
5th was a Carmen Gia convertible that was fun but too dangerous on ice.
Six a baby blue Chevy pick up that left me stranded in the middle of Kansas for days once waiting for parts. After that I lived in it on a lake in Wyoming the rest of the summer.
Six was my folks brown 73 Oldsmobile that served me well till I got married and she wanted to sell because she had a rusty nova her daddy bought her new and that she never washed once because "it will just get dirty again," she said.
We traded that for a new diesel rabbit grad school addition. Slow overrated piece of shit that I moved to New York in and sold it to the only person to respond from a New York Times ad. I was impressed.
Then my father-in-law gave me his old 76 Cadillac de vile the last of the giant cars but it had been sitting behind his business for a while and I drove it straight from there to the Cadillac place where they charged as if it were new, then I drove it to New York and it wouldn't turn off when I got here and I was so tired and pissed off I left it running hoping it would run out of gas. It didn't and more money and weeks later I paid to have it hauled off.
Then I had a piece of shit Volvo with some mystery illness that the Russian mechanic on Canal and Washington got rich off of and he bought from me for a song,
And finally I was in a big gallery and bought a new black Taurus a seamless wonder sort of like a deposable electronics. When divorced my ex took it.
Then I got a very pretty 77 Mercedes that was the devil's car the vibe it gave "was let me take you to eternity" I traded it for a watch then the new owner said the same thing "it's evil". He tried to sell recently and couldn't because I still owned it THE PAPER WORK WAS MESSED UP. oh NO that car is still fucking with me . I thought. Next one on a spring day I bought what the car magazines said was the fasted station wagon ever built. a 99 BMW v8 ,why? because I could. I had it a week and found the dirty guy who worked at the parking garage at night sleeping in it .FUCK I hated that. I sold it a year later to the store I got it from.
Now I have an American made 1996 black X Ohio sheriffs Chevrolet police package. that means it's simple and really tough and fast with a standard equipment corvette engine. it's kind of worn and not precious. they made something like 600 thousand of these for law enforcement between 94 and 96.
they are so common and so sublime.
Then I gave the sheriff's car to my son to drive in college, with the promise he would take care of it. He would get a job to pay for its maintenance, But after abandoning it on the streets of New Orleans during a hurricane, and then driving it back with both mirrors broken off, I let him sell it.
And then I bought a Dodge Hemi pickup, fast and powerful. And it got the shit beat out of it in the inside parking garage in Manhattan. And at the hands of my daughter when I was teaching her to drive where she wasn't shy about hitting things like railings along narrow bridges and the retaining wall outside my house upstate.
I traded that for a Duramax shitty diesel pickup, my own personal train. It also got beat up in the same inside garage where it took up two parking spaces. I loved it even though the only other people that even noticed its value in the city was migrant Mexican workers around construction sites. I sold it almost ten years ago and been on foot ever since.

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