A brand new 1974 Chevrolet Vega station wagon was the first, and only car I ever owned. A gift that I drove for the next 12 years with love. Quarter panels were replaced, entire car repainted once, the in-line 4 engine replaced by a blue Buick V-6 (now she flew!), and that beautiful little car took me everywhere! I cried buckets when I had to let it go.
Those days I loved to drive. I would leave for work early just to take the scenic route, and often did not come home until way past sunset. I loved the road. I loved cars.
Though I never had the pleasure of owning another vehicle, I rented one nearly every weekend. Mom and I explored every road that presented itself. Fond memories of back roads through heavy forests, encounters with wildlife, including a moose!, discovering pristine lakes, rivers, streams, waterfalls, and roads that seemed to go on forever.
Despite the pleasures of quiet drives in the country, I was also very fond of muscle cars and drag racing. I date myself with reference to nitro funny cars and modified stock, the glory days of Don ‘The Snake’ Prudhomme, Grumpy Jenkins and the like. Spent weekends glued to the stands at such events as Sanair, Indianapolis and the Gatornationals, and every summer Sunday at Luskville.
Over the years I kept my love of automobiles barely alive and was saddened by this. My Mother died and I stopped driving, boyfriends with cars that took me canoeing, camping and on weekend getaways have gone. My income too small to support a vehicle and hope to retire too.
I lost touch with the modern vehicle until last year, I decided to rekindle my automotive affections and attended a car show. I spent my time looking under hoods, listening to sales pitches, and exhausted myself eyeballing beautiful works of metal, glass, plastic and fiberglass art.
I fell in love with a white Jaguar XE and could have sat in that car all day. My finger prints are still etched on the steering wheel where they pried them off.
A Chevrolet Traverse also caught my eye. A real SUV, not a glorified hatchback, that caused me to dream of hauling camping gear, canoe and paddleboard off into the sunset once again. Ah, to dream.
Alas, with all this fantasizing, the best I could do was subscribe to Automobile Magazine for 3 years and read it cover to cover. A most excellent written drive!