The holidays are a time to reconnect with friends and family, share stories and reminisce about good times.  So, I thought I’d do a little reminiscing myself and share with you some of my car stories.
 
My parents were kind enough to include me in the car buying process whenever they purchased a new vehicle.  Perhaps they somehow knew that I would go into the car business, and they wanted to prepare me for my future career.  Or, maybe they just couldn’t get a babysitter.  Whatever the reason, the result is that I remember every car my family has ever owned.
 
My earliest car memory is of an ugly, avocado green station wagon with lovely wood grain siding.  This was a 1968 Ford Country Squire, the top-of-the-line in wagon in Ford’s fleet.  Considered the premium American family vehicle at the time, the Country Squire held 9 passengers and was longer than many of today’s full-sized SUVs!   Although we didn’t have 9 passengers, we did need the space for Bambi, the Newfoundland.  Bambi loved to ride in the car, and he served a vital function during the Cleveland winter:  the 140 lb dog added enough weight to the back of the car to keep it from sliding around in the snow and ice.
The next car to enter our family was a chartreuse (yes, chartreuse), 1973 Chevy Vega.  I LOVED that car.  I mean, what 3 year old wouldn’t love a chartreuse car shaped like a football?   I remember being very upset when they traded it in.  However, since the bottom had rotted out, and Dad’s foot had gone through the floor board, it was probably for the best. 

They replaced the Vega with a 1978 white Ford Fairmont station wagon with a rear-facing 3rd row seat.  As kids, my friends and I loved the rear-facing seat.  It was perfect for making faces at other drivers and waving at truckers on the freeway.  At that time, Ford stood for “Found On the Road Dead”.  This station wagon lived up to the reputation and caught fire on the freeway one day on the way home from the airport.  (Ford’s quality has, thankfully, improved since then.)

In 1979, my father celebrated his 40th birthday by purchasing a silver Mazda RX-7.  What says “midlife crisis” better than a 2-seater sports car?  Since I was old enough to understand, my dad told me all about his wonderful new toy and how it worked.  This was our first manual transmission car, and Dad showed me how to properly work the clutch and shift through the 5 gears.  I would sit in the car (without the engine running) and pretend I was driving at Le Mans.  My passion for sports cars was born! 

The first car I actually drove was not a sports car, but a blue 1984 Dodge Aires wagon with woodgrain sides.  Nothing is more glamorous for a 16 year old than to drive Mom’s safe, boring station wagon.  Thankfully, a few months after I got my license, my father taught me to drive stick.  He had traded his Mazda for a 1985 Toyota Celica in two-tone metallic blue.  Mastering the manual transmission was a “trial by gravity” exercise.  Dad stuck me on a hill in first gear until I learned where the clutch caught.  That was an entertaining afternoon.   

The summer before my senior year of high school, my dad bought me a 1978 Audi Fox.  I had my very own European luxury car!  It was, in fact, a 5-speed lemon with no power steering.  If you had less than 1/3 of a tank of gas, and you made a left hand turn, all the gas would flow away from the engine, and the car would stall.  It also had a radiator leak the size of Texas.  It died six months later, leaving me stranded on the side of the road on Christmas Eve.  My dad took pity and gave me the Celica.  I was the happiest 17 year old on the planet.  Dad bought himself a shiny new Mazda RX-7 – in red. 

When I graduated from college (with a job), I traded the Celica for a 1993 Ford Explorer Sport.  Thanks to my cowgirl roommate from Idaho, I had acquired a taste for 4×4s.  My truck phase lasted a few more years, culminating in the ownership of a huge Dodge Ram pickup truck that I couldn’t park anywhere.  Then I turned 30…

Her name was Penelope.  She was a red, 2000 Porsche Boxster S and the love of my life.  With Penelope, I learned high performance driving and raced with the Porsche Club of America.  Flying around a race track at 140 mph creates a bond between human and machine that can’t easily be explained.  It broke my heart when I had to give her up.  She was hit by a Suburban driving on the wrong side of the road and was never the same again.

Nothing could ever take the place of Penelope, but I did need a new car.  So, I purchased a 2005 Infiniti G35 named Isabelle.  Isabelle was a sexy, black on black sport coupe with dark tinted windows and 19 inch rims.  She was the most luxurious car I’ve ever owned, boasting features and options that I never did learn to operate.  After only 19 months, I sold Isabelle and purchased a 2004 Mini Cooper S named Maggie.  Maggie is like a go-cart on steroids, and she is the most fun I’ve had since Penelope.  Maggie proudly wears the Women’s Automotive logos along with pink and black racing stripes.  You can’t miss her on the road.

I guess it’s strange to look back on cars, remembering them as if they were members of the family, but that’s what they have always been to me.  I hope each of you has a wonderful holiday, reminiscing with your family – including your cars.

By the way, my dad now proudly drives a minivan.  You just can’t get 4 sets of golf clubs in a sports car.