Hey! Where's my car?
being excited about buying the Chevy on the morning my now-for-sale
VW Fastback was to appear in The Bargain Mart (the regional
auto trader publication) complete with photo. I ate breakfast and
walked out to get in my car to begin my drive to school.
car was gone!
walked out to the street, thinking some friends were pulling a prank.
Surely some friends had popped it out of gear and pushed it around
the corner, right?? I usually parked the VW on the street in front
of our house (my dad left before I did in the mornings and I couldn't
block him in). I was in shock -- not only was my car missing, but
I had a bigger mystery. Who the hell would steal a Volkswagen
car was stolen about 6 a.m., just about 10 minutes before I got
up. It was taken to a logging road near Boston, Ky., where the rims
and tires were removed. The thieves then pelted the car with large
rocks, breaking all the car's glass save for one wing vent. They
also beat the crap out of the car with tire tools, rocks, and anything
handy, denting it all over. They pulled all my stuff out of the
car and scattered it over a hillside. They took my hand tools and
socket set, but left my wallet, checkbook, calculator and other
devastated. A tow truck brought what was left of the VW home and
it looked pathetic. Thankfully I still had four stock rims and tires
so it could roll. Paying to have the car repaired was out of the
question since the cost of the glass alone would easily exceed the
original cost of the car.
the shock wore off, I assumed this cloud had a silver lining. I
really needed to buy a car now, and since I had already committed
to buy the Chevy from Paul, that sale would move forward, right?
umm, er, no, my dad informed me. In his view, I needed a
sensible, dependable car, and that did not include buying that 55
Chevy, he said.
heart sank. Our discussion escalated into World War III. I wanted
that Chevy and was willing to pay for it -- how unfair of him to
force me to do what he thought best! After all, I was 18 and knew
everything. Heck, I was a high school graduate and was already an
expert on most things..
war didn't last long. My dad's trump card was the fact that he would
have to co-sign for a loan, and he would NOT co-sign a loan to buy
End of story.
broken-hearted, angry, and disgruntled. Paul, the Chevy's owner,
and I had earlier agreed that the deposit I gave him was nonrefundable.
I told my story (he apparently had heard similar tales of woe and
was unmoved). He was sympathetic, but he reminded me of our agreement.
I was disappointed with Paul, but finally realized it was me who
broke the sale, not him.
car shopping with my dad at the local Dodge dealer. My dad pushed
me toward a new stripped-down gunmetal grey 1978 2-door Aspen with
a Slant-Six and three on the floor. The bare-bones Dodge hardly
had carpet. Anyway, my dad wanted to haggle on price, but the dealer
said it was such a stripper there was no room to give a break on
options - the car had none.
the situation with a friend of mine as we cruised town one Saturday.
He suggested we look at some of the car lots, so we did a little
window shopping. I found a bright red 1976 Plymouth Duster. I fell
in love with the Duster. It wasn't the 55 I wanted, but the car
was sporty and in excellent shape. My dad co-signed for it.
my dream of buying the '55 go for now. I turned my attention to
my school studies and working on my Duster.
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