A Boy’s First Car

I’ve been under the weather recently, but I’ve recovered. My convalescence allowed me to ruminate a bit on a recent development in my life: the need to sell the only car I’ve ever owned.

This will be a difficult parting, I can tell. Not in a theological sense. I know the answers when it comes to the theology of selling my car. Our life is not our own, and we are not the sum of our possessions. We won’t take anything to heaven with us. However, I’m not so worried that about me being a part of the car. On the contrary, my 1995 tan Honda Accord coupe is a part of me.

There are so many memories that come with your first car, especially when you’ve taken good care of the car and kept it around for a while. Each time I open the car door I’m greeted with a midsized amount of memories. I can remember the day my mother bought me a Bowdoin College decal to put on the car I would one day own. Little did I know that I would own that car at the end of the day. Picking me up from college after my freshman year, my parents discussed with me my prospects of someday getting a car. When we pulled into our driveway, I saw a beautiful tan Honda coupe with a big bow. My first thought, showing the stunning discernment abilities I possess, was this: who is at our home, and why do they drive a car with a blue bow on it? A few minutes later, I was the one who would drive it, albeit without the big blue bow.

The car and I went everywhere together. The memories accrued from those times ride with me each time I drive, like an old friend keeping you company in the passenger seat. Trips to Portland with my friends; riding to church (usually late) with my roommate, Keegan; driving to summer camp to work as a counselor. Driving through the snow, rain, and mush of Maine winter; driving to the store on errands; driving to Louisville in search of education and a degree. Driving my future wife on our first date–thank goodness for a steering wheel with good grip. Running our first errands together as a married couple. In these and so many other reminisces, my car is not simply a vehicle. It’s a friend, a trusted one. I guess that’s why I feel like I’m putting my favorite pet to sleep. Maybe some of you out there understand. Or maybe you’re laughing at me. I understand, but have to reiterate: there’s something about a man’s first car. Gets in your soul. Becomes a part of you, whether you want it to or not.

Goodbye, Sweet Chariot. It’s been a good ride.

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One response to “A Boy’s First Car

  1. Nick

    This story literally made me tear up. I would like to apologize for your loss. I completely understand where you’re coming from. My first car is a 2000 Chevrolet Silverado. My father is trying to make me sell it to get a newer fuel efficient car. While I spent the whole day test driving new cars, none of them compare to the gas guzzling truck that I have come to love. After reading this, I’m not quite sure I’m going to allow my father to, in a way, take a part of my childhood away. I feel like I’d rather just pay for gas and repairs instead of a new car payment. The truck itself just turned 190K miles. That means I put 3 years and 30K miles of memories on the vehicle that I cannot get back. There is also a story that is behind my truck, however I do not wish to bore you to death.
    It’s glad to know there’s somebody out there who felt the same way about their first car. Best wishes.

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