Getting to Know Me Wednesday - My First Car

My first car was a brown Ford Fairmont. I bought said Fairmont the summer before my senior year. My Grandpa helped me find it. I remember when I first saw it. It was boxy and brown. Not exactly a 17 year old girls dream car. It was an ’83 with only 60+ thousands miles on it. The interior was in mint condition. I think there was one spot of rust on the door that my Grandpa swore he could get rid of. I of course was skeptical. Then the old lady selling it said something I will never forget. It’s yours for $500. Even my teenage materialism couldn't resist that offer. I had $1000 in my pocket that I didn’t want to spend to begin with, so as soon as I heard $500 I said SOLD!

The first summer I drove it I found a small figurine of Egon from the Ghostbuster’s  on the beach where I was a lifeguard. I promptly hung that figurine from the rearview mirror and from that day forth my beloved brown Ford Fairmont was forever known as Egon.

I had a love hate relationship with Egon. I loved that in the middle of the winter he always started right up. Especially when the rocking red sports car next to me never seemed to want to turn over. In my head I would say nah nah nah nah nah nah as I drove away. I loved that he never got stuck in the snow. I loved that he once drove me three hours from college back to my hometown without oil and didn’t complain once. My dad did when I got home, but good old Egon was a trooper. I hated that he was brown and boxy and got a little rustier as the years passed.

Egon was only ever in one wreck.To this day I really don't count it as a wreck...more like I steered in the wrong direction, or not soon enough...whatever it wasn't like a real accident. I was driving and talking with one of my best friends. She said, Kaci are you going to slow down around this curve? Before I knew it we were running off the road, over a railroad tie and into someone’s front yard, just a few feet from a major highway. It felt like we were flying, but I am pretty sure we weren’t. Egon was too old to fly. The only thing wrong was a front flat tire. A normal car would have cracked under the pressure I am sure. My dad found a new tire at the local junkyard and was as good as new. 

I literally drove Egon until he died. The last day of his wonderful life I was at work. My first job out of college. I had been there maybe two months. Still the new chick. I was sitting in my cubicle and someone came running in to tell me my car was on fire. My first reaction was to ask if someone called 911…then I ran to Egon. By the time I got out there the Fire Department was already there spraying him down.  It was NOT a huge dramatic fire. Apparently some wiring in the front seat console area sparked up and started a small fire that was seen by the office across the street before it got out of hand. The thing is I remembered on my way to work that morning smelling something funny and just chalking it up to one of Egon’s smells. That afternoon I realized the smell was smoke. Oops.

They towed Egon away to a dealership where an insurance agent could come and access the damage. I went to the lot to see if there was anything I could get out of the trunk. I cried when we drove away. I have a picture of me with him somewhere from that day, I just don’t know where. If I ever find it I will for sure post it. I saved the figurine too…but it’s been 12+ years. I have no idea where I put it.

Oh, believe it or not, when the insurance agent accessed the damage I ended up getting over $900 for Egon. What! It had been 6 years since I bought him and I actually made money. Good old Egon. Just proved he loved me and how much of a giver he was.

When I post about each of my children, like I plan on doing, I hope I can be as sentimental about them as I am about inanimate objects like glue guns and cars.

Hope you enjoyed this little story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

More printables by the end of the week!