My first car was an interesting experience. I was living away from home and had recently gotten a new ob, but it was no longer a walking dis- ance from my apartment. The buses - the community in which I lived ere unpredictable and only ran until lpm. I was working in a movie the- tre and I sometimes worked until am. Besides, the ride cost me about 10 aday. Keep in mind I was getting aid about $12 an hour, but still, in my 0-year old mind, this was an unrea- onable expense. I probably could have asked

y employers to work during the days (we opened at 11am), but obviously he prospect of owning my own car

as far more intoxicating. I made a sophomoric mistake: probably one of the most common mistakes that kids make when they're looking for a car. I was dead-set on a specific make and model of car. [ hit the free car ads and scoured the pages for this type of car I wanted. I didn't look for a quality car, or a car with low milage. No, I looked for my dream car like I had blinders on- willing to settle for a total P.O.S.

_ | bought that P.O.S., and paid for the con- stant repairs like any

other adult would.

On my next day off, I found myself on a train for half an hour to a really shady community. There was the car, sitting in the drive. It was cool, but there were drawbacks. Big ones. I couldn't take the car for a test- drive because I had not yet learned how to drive a standard, so the owner drove it around the block. The guy saw me coming a mile away. 2

It was a 1982, it smelled a lit- tle funny, the engine wasn't original to the car (or even the model of car), I could only push the clutch in about 2 inches, the tires were bald, the speedometer and odometer didn't work and I didn't find out until later that the 8as gauge stuck on "full" if you filled It too high. But the tape deck worked

Stark Raving Sane: On First Cars

By Catherine Sweet

almost all the time and the guy told me he'd throw in "The Club" and fix the

horn (he didn't).

Why did I all of a sudden lose all grasp of reasoning? I was no longer simply willing to settle for a crapbox, but it was like I was ringing a bell and wearing a sandwich sign pro- claiming "Rob Me Blind!" I'm not sure what prompted me to lose touch with reality. I was never in a rush to move away from home. Nor did I want to rebel via smoking, drinking or drugs. Now, after a couple of years of analy- sis, I've decided that this car was the incredibly "adult" thing that I had to do. I bought that P.O.S., and paid for the constant repairs like any other adult would.

I looked for my dream car like I had blinders on- willing to settle for a total P.O.S.

It was like an abusive relation- ship. It would break down, stall, flood, stall, bang, stall, and stall and I would run back to it day after day, nur- turing it with fuel and lubricants (it was a lubricant junkie). Two years later, I'm still experiencing the pain. The car was so small, the seats could not go back far enough for me to drive comfortably, so I ended up having to hold both legs off the seats to work the pedals and not knock the wheel with my knees. My joints were so messed up I had to see a physiotherapist when I returned home.

In my oh-so-mature (cough) present-day mind, I know that the bus is a reasonable alternative and no mat- ter how much I like the look of a car, I have to make a more critical decision. Was everyone's youthful forays into car ownership as bad as mine? I hope so, actually. Like moving away from home, everyone should experience the bittersweet bliss of owning a con- demnable car. My beautiful beast was crushed at the scrapyard a short month after I moved home. It was about 6 months overdue.

What is more strange: The fact that Catharine actually owne car or the fact that Catharine is six feet tall.

WwU.U2et.ca —~ca

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