Famous — My Pinto?
The strangest thing happened yesterday! In notifications — not one, not two, but THREE recommends came through on three separate references I have made to my first car — right here — in my Medium stories.
First cars are memory markers, without a doubt.
She was a 1978 Ford Pinto. My father bought her for me shortly after I passed my driver’s test. Not to brag or anything, but I only had to take the test once, on the day I turned sixteen. The seller, a twenty-something female who rented the upper flat of my aunt and uncle’s duplex, must have decided orange was no longer her color.
The above photo was not hard to track down. It’s the only recorded evidence I have of the car that gave me freedom.
She had a manual transmission and broken gas gauge. I only ran out of gas once during the years I drove her. By some luck, I was parked in the gas station parking lot! Just a little heave ho and we rolled her to the pump.
Before seat belts became well known life savers, the seven pictured above could squeeze into the tiny black interior and cruise the lakefront searching for action. Oh the un-shareable memories we made!
On a trip home from college one spring, her clutch went out. I upgraded to a manual transmission black Ford Escort — with a red pin stripe that made her extra special.
There’s a story knocking about that car and a poor decision made by a young girl in the city of Chicago. Sometimes don’t you look back and marvel that you’re still alive? I do.
Thanks Tack for today’s writing prompt! It was a nice stroll down memory lane.