The Responsible Girl

27 October 2009 22 Comments

There’s a story I have told about 100 times in my life and there is no way this could really be my diary if I didn’t include it here. So grab a beverage and take a seat for a little while.

1980 Thunderbird I am three years older than my sister. I received my drivers license in 1981 and my sister received hers in 1984. My parents were uber-suburban middle class at this point in their lives. They had the proverbial “nice car” (a 1980 Ford Thunderbird) and the “train station” car (1970 Dodge). Pretty typical of life in suburbia back then.

The 70′s were perhaps the ugliest era for cars ever. The cars then were so incredibly huge and long, that if you went over a bump, the car would bounce for the next 5 minutes. An adult could honestly lay across the back seat, with their knees only having to be slightly bent. The trunks were so large that you could probably fit suitcases for a family of 5.

Anyway, now that you have the full background, onward with the story. (Are you still with me?)

There were times where both my sister and I needed a car and for a year, this was a huge issue. Who drove what? Without fail, my sister would be given the newer car to drive, and I was given the older car.

This never seemed fair to me and in the rare times where I spoke up for myself, the answer I received was “You’re more responsible than she is”.

Does this make sense to anyone out there? Shouldn’t a more responsible person be trusted with a car that actually had a dollar value? This was logic I could never wrap my brain around.

Meet the responsible girl’s car: polara-dodge

The 1970 Dodge Polara. Let me add one more thing here. If it were blue as in the photo here, it might not have been quite so traumatizing. I was not this fortunate, however. It was brown. With a black vinyl roof. So this piece of “you know what” was actually the color of “you know what”.

Let me also reiterate how much of a tank this fine auto was. After running out of gas at the bank’s drive through window, not a single dent was made when it was pushed away and into the concrete base of a nearby light post. (Of course cars back then had big, black rubber bumpers.)

My friends referred to this car as “The Bomb”. Do not confuse this with “‘Da Bomb” used nowadays. They have two very separate meanings. This car was so awful that most times even my friends didn’t want to be seen in it. It was the auto of last resort. I was usually the passenger in someone else’s car.

My parents and I were going over this story recently. They honestly could not even make sense of their logic back then. I’ve come to realize, they fibbed. Me driving that car had nothing at all to do with being “responsible”. What it was about? It was their way of boosting my ego behind the wheel of a complete clunker. They knew I was the child of least resistance. My sister would have thrown fits if she had to be seen in that thing. It was easier to boost my ego than to deal with tantrums. (Parenting is a funny thing.)

web-volkswagen-scirocco-white-cat-1985 So of course when I bought my first car, needless to say. I bought the tiniest thing I could find. A BRAND NEW, 1986 Volkswagon Scirocco.

I kept that car a long time because I was so proud of it. Eight cars later, it’s still the most favorite car I have ever owned. And on the parenting side of things…be careful with the excuses you give your children. One day their recollection will be far better than yours.

Now you can get up from your computer…..

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22 Comments. Click to leave one of your own!

October 27 2009 at 9:11 PM Ronnie said:

Nancy-That was some ugly car!! My sis had to drive this big station wagon of my parent’s and she would always make fun of whatever poor soul had to drive it.