I had so many expectations and hopes when I first bought that car; where it would take me, how long it would be before I hit that milestone of adulthood and what I would be doing with my life when I got there.
Unsurprising, I never expected to be driving at 6;30 in the morning on my day off to go work a 12 hour shift for an entry level job well below my estimated potential aptitude. To say hitting that milestone was a disappointment would be a gross understatement. I mean, it's not like I expected to be writing my own rendition of Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" while on some Hunter S. Thompsonesque epic gonzo journalism adventure but I mean, I dunno... I remember being a kid in the car with my parents as we counted down the miles driving cross country to a new military station and when we hit 100K, we all cheered.
Was is cheesy? Sure. Mediocre? By most standards, absolutely. I guess what disappoints me is that I had no one to share it with. I called my parents and clearly woke them up (who in their right mind gets up at 6am on a Saturday anyway?) and my dad was basically like "that's nice. congratulations. I'm going back to bed." and I could hear my mom in the background FREAKING out because in her world a 6:30am call clearly means I am being held up at gunpoint or living out some other equally insane movie plot. Though to be fair, just a week ago, I was chased down the freeway at more than 85 mph by a crazy ex-boyfriend who was trying kill me and my passenger, his ex-girlfriend, by throwing things at my windshield. So I guess once a decade, my mom sorta has a right to panic.
I got Marvy in the summer of 2003. He was bought in secret because my then "one and only" wouldn't allow me to drive, have a license, leave the house, breathe without permission, etc. I had scored an awesome job going on a short-term tour with a bunch of famous comedian TV and movie stars. The actor who put the show together hired me specifically because he could see I was in an abusive marriage and wanted to give me a reason to get out of the house and get away from him for a while. What my ex didn't "garnish" from my wages as a "finder's fee" (apparently it costs $900 to say "this famous actor's agent called me today and wants to hire you") I took and sent to my parents and asked them to find me a car for which my earnings would make a suitable down payment in a price range I could afford to keep up with after my ex garnished my paychecks every week.
$187 a month for a 1 year old car with only 12,000 miles and 2.9% fixed APR for 5 years was an unheard of miracle. I remember my parents had to fax the paperwork to the store I worked at so my ex wouldn't find out what I was doing. The title was put in my name to give me some form of equity upon with to build credit and hopefully, eventually leave him.
Most people buy a car for looks, efficiency, future family needs practical stuff. My car was purchased by price, and my ability to safely live in it, if my relationship got to the point where i had to flee at a moments notice. I remember running home from work every day, frantically checking the mail to make sure the title for the car didn't arrive before I could find and hide it. My parents and I worked out a master plan to tell him they decided to "surprise" me with a "gift" of a new car that I would pay them back for every month. In reality, everything was in my name. The loan, the insurance, the title, they had nothing to do with it except find it and file the paperwork for me from 1,000 miles away and then drive it up to me.
I remember the day I started saving cardboard boxes in my trunk in case I decided to leave him.I remember being panicked the day he FOUND the boxes and I had to pretend that a friend asked me to bring them home for her from work because she was moving.
I remember the day, 2 weeks after I left him, driving home from the welfare office after the lady there told me "I can' believe you're ONLY 22 and ALREADY a victim of domestic violence" as she threw a food stamps card at me and walked away before she could catch whatever disease I seemed to have. I remember sitting in the car for three and a half hours outside the domestic violence shelter I was living at. I sat there for hours crying, looking at a statement that said "You qualify for $11 a month in food stamps even though you only make $400 a month" and thinking I would never overcome my situation and it was better to just end my life right then. My work apron was inside my room at the shelter with my box cutter in it. I stayed in the car until I could finally find a reason to not give up. I was only 22 and that car had already saved my life twice.
I drove to my first day of university in that car, accidentally drove to Canada, drove cross country four times, went to the 2010 Olympics in that car, had my first kiss in a foreign country in that car, was searched by immigration, went on my first solo road trip, graduated college, moved into my very first apartment, road-tripped with my pet fish, adopted the first cat that belonged only to me, got my first parking ticket, and yeah, even got in a high speed car chase in it.
I've managed to keep his wheels rolling for 13 years without blowing the stock speakers (which is impressive considering how loud I play my radio on the freeway), The upholstery still looks fantastic, and aside from one giant dent in the read bumper, he's in pretty good shape.
I don't know where I'll be in another 13 years or when I hit 200,000 but I hope I will be more financially stable at a job that is in my career field paying me what my estimated potential is worth at a fair market value... and who knows, maybe I'll have enough money to finally fix that dent.
Or not. It makes him a lot easier to find in crowded parking lots. I'm still on the fence. But I guess I've got a bit of time on m hands to officially decide. :)
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