1989 Mitsubishi Montero
Years owned 1998-2004
This car was an amazing present from my Aunt and Uncle. As the fourth child, turning 16 coincided with my parents running out of vehicles. I learned to drive on my dad’s Chevrolet Cheyenne. In the parking lot of Uniroyal and along our ¼ mile driveway I bucked, skidded, and stalled its manual transmission, which was evidently nothing like the snapper riding mower I’d been commanding for years. During my first few months of licensed freedom, I drove around my mom’s Dodge Caravan. The classy natural wood trim ran elegantly down its maroon body; a purple blur of Beastie Boys whizzed through the streets beating up the beat before the “Situation” made it a phenomenon.
But the day I was given the Montero was the day I became a man. My steed was an arctic white beast with fierce tinted eyes. Its massive radial all terrains hugged sporty American Racing rims. The front and back were mounted with ramming bars to keep other drivers out of my way and, if that wasn’t enough, I could blind them with my KC lights. I had full control of its manual engine. I passed cars uphill across a solid line laying on its super octave elephantine horn. Though I wasn’t an especially cool kid, the Beast made me cool for five minutes a day as we clamored through parking lot traffic on our way home. I waxed it and took it to the senior prom.
It got me through most of college before throwing an engine rod my senior year. I was on my way up to Boston to see Einsturzende Neubauten. I filled up the tank and called my brother to let him know I was en route. A few days later I was syphoning the gas into my friend Greg’s car and signing over the title to a junkyard mechanic. The Beast was dead.
Synopsis – naïve and strong. The beast knew not past and future, but only present day. And it kicked those days’ asses.
1996 SAAB 900s Hatchback
Years owned 2004-2010
For the last few weeks of college I used my dad’s pickup. Another red Chevy, but not the Cheyenne, much bigger. I had once attempted to back this truck out of my parents’ driveway during a party of theirs when the Montero was blocked in. I over-steered a bit and crumpled the driver’s side against the Beast. Nothing major, just cosmetic negligence. The Beast, of course, was unscathed. So this truck got me though finals and I returned to my home town without a whip of my own. I had some money saved from working summers at a resort hotel in the old section of town – both old in history and in median age, Heritage Village and its Bazaar was Q-tip heaven. I told my dad that I’d like to make the change to a car or at least something more economical than the 14 MPG I was used to. I think I told him I was interested in a hatchback, maybe a VW Golf or GTI. He found the SAAB in the newspaper and it sounded awesome. Old in years but young in miles; it was an 8 year old car with only 67,000 miles on it. It was housed outside a Monro Muffler shop by a man named Terry who made a career of buying cars at auction and reselling them privately. He’d used the Monro as a front because he gave the shop so much work. I think he threw in new pads with the deal. This particular car was from an American Cancer Society auction. With the help of my dad, we talked the price down a few hundred dollars and saved what we would have paid in taxes. This car was considerably less manly than the Beast. However, the periwinkle blue yupster seemed to match my quirky idiosyncrasies. It had the appearance of both money and intelligence. It could get by on a class level where many other cars less than $5,000 could not. It was the car that most closely matched who I was trying to be during its 6 year life span – the freelancer.
Of course the first year I owned this car I worked in a fancy restaurant and lived at home with my parents in an attempt to save up some money for “the big move” somewhere. At that point I had fully expected it to be NYC. My family was all from New York and it was clearly the coolest place to be on planet earth. Rich people lived there. Starving artists lived there. Bands came from all over the world to play for 50 people in a small dive bar in New York City. It was the one place on Earth where it was probably as legitimate to fail as it would be to succeed. And I know what you’re thinking, L.A. But it’s not cool to fail in L.A. L.A. isn’t even a city, you need a car to get anywhere. In New York you can fail and as long as you can come up with $1010 a month, you can afford a place to sleep, a quart of milk and a link of sopressata…and be just as happy as the next guy.
But I couldn’t come up with $1010 a month, so I chose to move to Boston.
SAAB’s are said to last for 200,000 miles. SAAB owners like to tell you SAAB stories. The fact is, this car didn’t die on me. If I only had more money, I’d probably still be driving this car. Ironically, because I don’t have more money, I’m making payments on a nicer newer car. Oh the wonders of credit.
That’s not to say this car was a pleasure cruise. I’ve had to change the alternator, replace the gas tank, and spent more than anyone would ever budget for on maintenance like brakes and exhaust repairs. The shifter knob peeled off after a few years. I’d been riding with a hollowed out tennis ball on it for about 3 years until I finally took the initiative to drill out a baseball and mount in on with some putty; Man, was that a messy project. The trunk was always damp. Parts of the body were starting to rust away. The check engine light was on for about a year; I was able to pass state inspections by disconnecting the battery moments before taking it in. But the car was still running at 150,000 miles. It never ceased to surprise me. It made it to DC and back a few times, fitting an Australian road bike and a barcalounger inside it. And aside from the AC, it was running great the day I traded it in.
Synopsis – Adaptable to any situation, but with a mind of its own. Herby meets Harry and the Henderson’s.
2006 Honda Accord Sedan
Years owned 2010-present
I have driven this car for 5 months and have put about 6,000 miles on it. It has been an absolute dream. It is the only car I have ever had that I didn’t actually own. The bank owns it and I pay them monthly. I took out a power train warranty on it. I have no headaches. I still have AAA but more for when I am a passenger than a driver. The Accord is the only car I have ever owned that is automatic. I use cruise control on the highway and get near 30 MPG. It has a good environmental footprint. It’s silver and has very little personality. A month after owning it I shaved my head and now look like a really average person. I’m moving to a new state, to start a new life with my wonderful girlfriend who is very career oriented. I’d like to think that, like this car, I will be strong and reliable over the next few years. There won’t be any worries or unexpected hurdles.
But let’s get real. I’m a jack of all trades. I’ve never held one full-time job as an adult in my life. I’ve always juggled schedules, freelanced, and taken odds jobs as they’ve come along. I’ve managed to not be reliant on an employer; to be near self-employed. Will I now all of a sudden become a grown-up and hold down a regular job? Will I really become my Honda Accord?
Did I mention it has a 6-CD changer?
Synopsis – humbled by trepidations, a trusty steed on a journeyman’s course.
