You never forget your first car

Nothing gives a 17- or 18-year-old the feeling of independence quite like their first automobile. For some, it is a handed down, worn-in vehicle that their parents or older sibling used for years. For others, it is a bargain-bin used car or truck that may or may not pass inspection without a little tender loving care.

I haven’t had very many vehicles in my lifetime, compared to other people I know. In fact, I can still count on one hand the number of vehicles I have owned. There are those people that like to trade a vehicle in every few years, but I am not one of those people. Instead, I tend to keep a vehicle for eight to 10 years, squeezing every last bit out of it before moving on to something else.

Part of that is my disdain for change, but the other part is practicality. If I have a vehicle that is still running well, why get rid of it? Also, I hate spending money, so that comes into play as well.

My first automobile was a 1979 Chevy Malibu that I purchased from a classmate during my senior year of high school. I paid a grand total of $800 for it in October 1988. I only know this because my father still has the bill of sale.

So many things simply did not work on the car, yet my father let me buy it anyway. First off, the horn didn’t work. Neither did most of the taillights. But after the first couple of nights of working on the wiring, my father finally felt it was “safe enough” for me to drive.

The first thing I had to do, as most any teenager would agree, was to replace the vehicle’s stereo system. I purchased a top of the line (at that time) Pioneer stereo/cassette player from Shiretown Video and was ready to rock.

The Malibu was not exactly what I would call a practical choice for a teenager. It was only a two-door, so there was very little room to bring along my friends. It was also a rear-wheel drive car, with a beefy V6 engine. That was great for the first few months I owned it. Step on the gas, and that car would move. I think I averaged around seven miles per gallon (yes, seven) with that thing. Thank goodness this was a time when you could put $5 in the gas tank and have enough to ride the loop from the movie theater to McDonald’s and back.

However, once snow hit the ground, getting from my home to school was a challenge. I quickly discovered that rear-wheel drive vehicles had trouble completing turns or getting started at stop signs. I can still recall turning the steering wheel to go from Military Street onto Willard Street only to have the car keep going straight down Main Street.

That vehicle had a relatively short shelf life with me, as it was replaced with a new Plymouth Horizon in 1989. My mother won the vehicle (yes, people actually do win cars), as part of a promotion through WHOU radio station and the now defunct Northland Motors.

Back then, people submitted their names to enter the contest and had to listen to the radio station to qualify to win. If your name was drawn, you had 100.1 minutes to call the station. Ironically enough, the drawing for the vehicle was held on Saturday, April 1 (April Fool’s Day), 1989. I can still remember hearing my mother tell me on the morning of the contest that she was going to go get the new car. In the days leading up to the drawing, she was convinced she was going to win the vehicle and give it to me, so I had something safe to take to college.

I think there were 101 qualifiers in the contest who then had to go to the car dealership and draw a key out of a bucket. I didn’t go with my parents, because I didn’t want to be disappointed. A short time later, my father calls and says “Hey, come down here and pick up your new car.” I figured he was playing an April Fool’s joke on me, so I hung up.

A few minutes later he called back and said, “No really, come down here.” I still didn’t believe him. It wasn’t until the radio personality got on the phone that I believed them. I raced down to the dealership and saw my mother holding the keys and smiling. “I told you I was going to win it,” I seem to recall her saying.

Since that car was a 5-speed manual transmission, I had no clue how to drive it, but proved to be a fast learner. It was a peppy little car that treated me well for 11 long years before it was replaced with a Mazda 626 with leather trim and an exquisite sound system.

Six years ago, I had to make the switch from a small, three-door pickup truck to an SUV. I obtained the truck, a red GMC Sonoma, from my father, so there was some sentimentality attached to it, for sure. It also had a remote starter, which came in pretty handy on many a cold winter morning.

But that vehicle was not without its limitations, though. Since it was an extended cab, there was only room for three people. That meant, it was never used for family trips. And whenever someone did have to ride in the “back seat,” they had to sit sideways. I don’t know how many times my youngest daughter bonked her head on the back window from sitting in this awkward position back in the day.

As much as I loved the vehicle, it had almost 100,000 miles on it and was 11 years old. The bigger problem was that it was rusting out from underneath me and I had a sneaking suspicion it probably would not pass another state inspection without some serious work.

Plus, with a family of four, something more reliable and roomy was needed. I spent a couple months of scouring the Internet, reading reviews and weighing my options before making a purchase. I also drove my wife and coworkers crazy. “What do you think of this vehicle?” was uttered more than a few times.

There was also the new versus used debate to be had. Did it make more sense to spend a little bit extra and get a new vehicle with a warranty, or save money (and the registration costs) by going used?

I wound up buying a new 2012 Jeep Patriot. It was in my price range, had a cool name (since I am a diehard fan of the New England Patriots), and most importantly, I thought it just looked like a “me” vehicle. It’s funny how, for many, the way a vehicle looks is almost as important as how the vehicle runs.

Fortunately, that ride has served me well, and with only 50,000 miles on it, should last another few years before it’s time to start the process all over again.

Joseph Cyr is a staff writer for the Houlton Pioneer Times. He can be reached at jcyr@bangordailynews.com or 532-2281.