815 on Facebook, if we’re counting.
But there’s one friend I’ve developed a unique bond with. She’s seen me cry hysterically, and laugh just as hard. She’s suffered the brunt of my anger and the high of my joy. She’s traveled between time zones hundreds of times on I-90, been through the desert and back and has spent weeks at a time buried under several feet of Black Hills snow. And just over a month ago, she took her last long roadtrip with me, loyally getting me to my new home in Florida before starting to really piss me off.
I’m talking about the Chevy 4-Door-Blo-Dro.
I got my Cavalier following a rough time in my driving record. If we’re being honest, ‘rough’ is probably not the right word… more like ridiculous.
At 16 I thought I was invincible. I drove too fast on a regular basis—getting pulled over by the same cop on the same highway doing the same speed (71 in a 55… whoops) within a two-week period. He, of course, pulled my license, and shortly after I got it back my first GM vehicle (a Grand Am that I just HAD to have) totaled itself out via a condition I refer to as a ‘hole in a hose’ on the way home from Sioux City one night.
Then came the Malibu, and a car payment. Considering the car was on loan from the bank, you would hope I’d be more conscious of how I drove it. Nope. I took it prom dress shopping on a day that school was canceled due to snow (stop judging) and I was T-boned in an intersection after making an illegal left turn (seriously, you need to stop judging). Because I was on probation from losing my license for speeding… it was pulled immediately, and so were my keys.
By then I was a month away from turning 17, and 6 months away from college. My family and I decided the best thing to do was to put off getting a car (that is me being nice. I was PISSED I had to go to college without a car). So, I waited patiently through a full year in college before begging to go car shopping.
That’s when the Lady in Red came into my life.
At around $2500, she was a steal. I ran her into the ground, but she got me back a few times. That bitch broke down during my first two weeks as an intern in Phoenix on I-10 during morning rush. She stopped in the middle of cruising a square in Vermillion and my friends had to get out and push her out of an intersection. Most recently, she started shaking at intersections and when I’d push on the gas it would sound like I was competing in a drag race. And this Monday, as I was driving to a car dealership to look for ideas, she overheated.
It was time to send the Cavi to the island of misfit cars.
Let me tell you, I never knew how talented I was at bargaining before shopping for a car on my own. Without giving away too many details, I worked that dealer down from a price sticker of 18k to a loan for 11.
That’s with a trade-in, of course. Believe it or not, I got $1,000 out of that rust-bucket… and an offer to go run it into buildings around town with the dealers after hours. I politely declined.
So here’s to you, Chevy-4-Door… I’ll never be able to replace the memories I have driving you… but I can’t say I’ll miss you.
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