The Mustang:
The Mustang (my very first car) was gifted to me by my dad when I was of legal driving age. It was a two door,cherry red tomato orange, 1985 Mustang LX (the LX stands for "luxury" cause in 1985: power locks, a sun roof, and cruise control were considered a luxury).
You know how parents tend to make siblings walk home from Elementary together for safety? Well, due to the BFF status of our older sisters - E.T., his younger brother and I would all walk home together behind the our sisters.
Uphill.
In the snow.
Both ways.
Okay, okay, I'm kidding. It was only uphill on the way home, and it only snowed in the winter sometimes, but with heavy backpacks slung over one shoulder (cause that was the cool thing to do. Yes, back problems were considered cool.) it felt like it was a much worse walk than it really was.
Which is why we were both happy to have cars by the time High school came around. And when High school came around, guess who was jealous of my "horsepower"?
He even offered to trade me for his El Camino.
Considering the condition that the Mustang was in, he probably thought that was quite a logical offer: one working El Camino (if you ignore the rear view mirror that falls off) for one paraplegic Mustang LX.
Sounds like a fair trade right?
There's just one major flaw in E.T.'s offer: Nobody actually wants an El Camino.
Seriously, double fudge AND cookie dough?!?!!?!!
It's like tasting Heaven. If Heaven were thick, super-sugary, and much much worse for you.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. The Mustang. Long story short: my free car cost me $2000 for a new transmission, and another large sum of money for oil repairs (that apparently were multiplying faster than a horny teenage bunny who stole his dad's Viagra and overdosed before a party at the Playboy mansion) and I ended up having to replace the entire thing.
Oh yeah, and there was that one time I let my boyfriend at the time, Bryan (his privacy shall not be hidden because Bryan's with a Y are never to be trusted again, thus the world needs to be warned to stay clear of any and all Bryan's with a Y. Brian's with an I are still OK though. So far...) drive it from the parking spot to the front of the building after he pleaded and begged, despite me being nervous to let him lest he not handle it's eccentricities properly (Bryan didn't have own a car, and this car was finicky).
He came up to me all nervous and sheepish, which only further proved to my brain that something had actually gone wrong even though he was super duper careful and hadn't even left the parking lot.
Sure enough, the car was stuck.
He couldn't get it out of "Park" and was afraid to make it worse. This incident made me feel totally justified in my original reluctance to let him drive. See?!?! See why I didn't want you to drive it?!? I knew it!!
Then my dad (he's a mechanic) said it wasn't anyone's fault, that it was just the gear shifter's time to go. It lived a long and full life. (RIP gear shifter).
Regardless, it was quite frustrating that my car was stuck in "Park" right in front of the fire lane at the high school on the very last day of high school; a time when we should have been celebrating our escape not stuck there watching everyone else flee...
Thinking back, I guess the car was just too nostalgic to leave the school. It had some pretty good school spirit (our mascot was also a mustang) so, obviously it was mourning the loss of it's ability to contribute to my 'Stang Pride.
It was apparently so distraught, that it didn't even want a Blizzard.
The Mustang (my very first car) was gifted to me by my dad when I was of legal driving age. It was a two door,
Are you jealous of this car yet? I assume you would be because many friends were. Especially my friend (we'll call him E.T. in order to protect his privacy). And no, not the E.T. from the movie...This was a kid I grew up with.
You know how parents tend to make siblings walk home from Elementary together for safety? Well, due to the BFF status of our older sisters - E.T., his younger brother and I would all walk home together behind the our sisters.
Uphill.
In the snow.
Both ways.
Okay, okay, I'm kidding. It was only uphill on the way home, and it only snowed in the winter sometimes, but with heavy backpacks slung over one shoulder (cause that was the cool thing to do. Yes, back problems were considered cool.) it felt like it was a much worse walk than it really was.
Which is why we were both happy to have cars by the time High school came around. And when High school came around, guess who was jealous of my "horsepower"?
He even offered to trade me for his El Camino.
Considering the condition that the Mustang was in, he probably thought that was quite a logical offer: one working El Camino (if you ignore the rear view mirror that falls off) for one paraplegic Mustang LX.
Sounds like a fair trade right?
There's just one major flaw in E.T.'s offer: Nobody actually wants an El Camino.
They're ugly. They're like the mullet of vehicles. I hope that whoever decided to inbreed a car with a truck was immediately fired and forever lives in shame of that horrific creation. I'll take a broken Mustang over a functioning El Camino any day.
Now, you're probably wondering just how broken this little Mustang could be for me to prefer it over a perfectly functioning El Camino... Let's just say, if it had been a human, it'd be an obese cancer patient who's only purpose in life was obtaining a Blizzard from Dairy Queen.
(Disclaimer: I'm not insulting cancer patients or the obese, I loved this car & fought to keep it healthy/alive with a meager $8 an hour, 20 hour a week retail job. Although, honestly, it wasn't really obese - much like myself, it just wasn't in very good shape. Unlike myself, it was a rather small car. I could even touch the back of the back seat while sitting in the front seat. I'm not really sure how my friends ever fit back there. My guess, is that they weren't comfortable, but preferred riding with me over walking or riding with parents. 'Cause no high school student wants to ride with parents when they can ride with a friend).
In case you're wondering... I'm not making up the Dairy Queen part. The Mustang died in front of the Dairy Queen in my hometown on many many occasions. My only guess is that it had serious cravings for a Blizzard, because who doesn't love Blizzards? I've decided that Blizzards are the only reason anyone really goes to Dairy Queen anyways. Dairy Queen would not have survived this long without having invented such a fantastic dessert. And no, the M&M McFlurry is by no means anywhere near as delicious as the double fudge cookie dough Blizzard.
In case you're wondering... I'm not making up the Dairy Queen part. The Mustang died in front of the Dairy Queen in my hometown on many many occasions. My only guess is that it had serious cravings for a Blizzard, because who doesn't love Blizzards? I've decided that Blizzards are the only reason anyone really goes to Dairy Queen anyways. Dairy Queen would not have survived this long without having invented such a fantastic dessert. And no, the M&M McFlurry is by no means anywhere near as delicious as the double fudge cookie dough Blizzard.
Seriously, double fudge AND cookie dough?!?!!?!!
It's like tasting Heaven. If Heaven were thick, super-sugary, and much much worse for you.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. The Mustang. Long story short: my free car cost me $2000 for a new transmission, and another large sum of money for oil repairs (that apparently were multiplying faster than a horny teenage bunny who stole his dad's Viagra and overdosed before a party at the Playboy mansion) and I ended up having to replace the entire thing.
Oh yeah, and there was that one time I let my boyfriend at the time, Bryan (his privacy shall not be hidden because Bryan's with a Y are never to be trusted again, thus the world needs to be warned to stay clear of any and all Bryan's with a Y. Brian's with an I are still OK though. So far...) drive it from the parking spot to the front of the building after he pleaded and begged, despite me being nervous to let him lest he not handle it's eccentricities properly (Bryan didn't have own a car, and this car was finicky).
He came up to me all nervous and sheepish, which only further proved to my brain that something had actually gone wrong even though he was super duper careful and hadn't even left the parking lot.
Sure enough, the car was stuck.
He couldn't get it out of "Park" and was afraid to make it worse. This incident made me feel totally justified in my original reluctance to let him drive. See?!?! See why I didn't want you to drive it?!? I knew it!!
Then my dad (he's a mechanic) said it wasn't anyone's fault, that it was just the gear shifter's time to go. It lived a long and full life. (RIP gear shifter).
Regardless, it was quite frustrating that my car was stuck in "Park" right in front of the fire lane at the high school on the very last day of high school; a time when we should have been celebrating our escape not stuck there watching everyone else flee...
Thinking back, I guess the car was just too nostalgic to leave the school. It had some pretty good school spirit (our mascot was also a mustang) so, obviously it was mourning the loss of it's ability to contribute to my 'Stang Pride.
It was apparently so distraught, that it didn't even want a Blizzard.
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