All the cars I've owned before (Part I - The Rabbit)
It started in November of 1985. We purchased a 1982 Volkswagen Rabbit. Broke down constantly at first. My mom called it a Monday car, as in, it was built on a Monday, when all the factory workers came in still hung over from the weekend. The sunroof barely worked, one of the vent windows fell out, the tape deck played at about quadruple speed and at one point the muffler fell off ("Kinda sounds like a Chevelle," I told Danny when that happened. "Cool."). And at one point, some punk was tossing acorns at my car and one must have either been a rock or hit just so that the rear window shattered. There was this loud POP! and then a rain of glass. My youngest brother huddled in the back seat covering himself with construction paper the whole way home.
Then there was the February snow storm in 1986. We had a track meet at another school and I drove one guy back to my school because that was where his folks were picking him up and then attempted to head back to the other school. In the process, I slid on the snow into a ditch and slewed the left rear right into a Cadillac's right tail lamp. Scratched up his chrome and put a huge dent into the Rabbit. What did I do? I kept driving back to the track meet because I still had a 440 yard leg to run in the 4 x 440 relay. Of course, as anyone who lives in a state south of the Mason-Dixon line knows, snow is a paralyzing agent and the traffic grid was locked up tight. By the time I got to the school 5 miles and one hour later, the meet was over and I headed home on fumes. I called for back-up half-way (i.e. home) and explained that I dented the car and was almost out of gas. We banged out the dent, took it to a shop who informed us that the rear axle was bent and at some point, we fixed all that.
And another time when me, Danny and Joey were out and Joey needed to be home like, yesterday, so we were flying down Qualla Road doing about 60 in a 35. Slowed down to somewhere between 50 and 55 for a turn and the tires just a-howlin'. Joey said something to the effect of "I'd like to get home ALIVE, please!" Ever since then, that curve has been dubbed the 50 mile-an-hour curve.
The death knell sounded later that year, I believe. I took a turn too close and the car dipped into a ditch and we felt this thump on the bottom. In true me-fashion, I just said, "Ooops" and kept on.
Did you know a car can run nine miles with a hole in the oil pan before the engine seizes up? I do. I also learned that the reason the oil warning light is red is because when it comes on you need to STOP.
We were heading along, I still remember they were playing "Money" by Pink Floyd on the radio that day, because when the engine started to rattle, I thought it was part of the song's intro. It wasn't.
So we trudged back up the road about a quarter mile (this is LONG before cell phones) and called home. Dad came by with a gallon jug of oil and poured it into the engine. My brother looked under the car and it was pouring right back out.
So we parked the car and my dad bought a new engine when he went to Germany and had it shipped here (somehow I think it would have been cheaper to have it rebuilt here, but what do I know). Well, they sent us a junk engine and I think my dad managed to return it and put in a local motor. The car ran for about another year after that. At some point, it got too expensive to keep fixing so we parked it and we bought a 1983 Ford Escort.
Then there was the February snow storm in 1986. We had a track meet at another school and I drove one guy back to my school because that was where his folks were picking him up and then attempted to head back to the other school. In the process, I slid on the snow into a ditch and slewed the left rear right into a Cadillac's right tail lamp. Scratched up his chrome and put a huge dent into the Rabbit. What did I do? I kept driving back to the track meet because I still had a 440 yard leg to run in the 4 x 440 relay. Of course, as anyone who lives in a state south of the Mason-Dixon line knows, snow is a paralyzing agent and the traffic grid was locked up tight. By the time I got to the school 5 miles and one hour later, the meet was over and I headed home on fumes. I called for back-up half-way (i.e. home) and explained that I dented the car and was almost out of gas. We banged out the dent, took it to a shop who informed us that the rear axle was bent and at some point, we fixed all that.
And another time when me, Danny and Joey were out and Joey needed to be home like, yesterday, so we were flying down Qualla Road doing about 60 in a 35. Slowed down to somewhere between 50 and 55 for a turn and the tires just a-howlin'. Joey said something to the effect of "I'd like to get home ALIVE, please!" Ever since then, that curve has been dubbed the 50 mile-an-hour curve.
The death knell sounded later that year, I believe. I took a turn too close and the car dipped into a ditch and we felt this thump on the bottom. In true me-fashion, I just said, "Ooops" and kept on.
Did you know a car can run nine miles with a hole in the oil pan before the engine seizes up? I do. I also learned that the reason the oil warning light is red is because when it comes on you need to STOP.
We were heading along, I still remember they were playing "Money" by Pink Floyd on the radio that day, because when the engine started to rattle, I thought it was part of the song's intro. It wasn't.
So we trudged back up the road about a quarter mile (this is LONG before cell phones) and called home. Dad came by with a gallon jug of oil and poured it into the engine. My brother looked under the car and it was pouring right back out.
So we parked the car and my dad bought a new engine when he went to Germany and had it shipped here (somehow I think it would have been cheaper to have it rebuilt here, but what do I know). Well, they sent us a junk engine and I think my dad managed to return it and put in a local motor. The car ran for about another year after that. At some point, it got too expensive to keep fixing so we parked it and we bought a 1983 Ford Escort.