Prelude To Adulthood

Buying that all-important first car was quite the experience

- Jamie Schmidt

Like most teenagers, I could not wait to get my driver’s licence. So strong was my desire that I overcame the dread of learning how to drive from both my father and the slightly unsettling driver’s ed teacher at the local high school. The promise of independence trumped all fear.

Not long after obtaining my licence, I began longing for my own car. Sure, I had ready access to my parents’ vehicle, but it was a maroon 1984 Mercury Lynx station wagon that was only slightly less embarrassing to drive than being “pantsed” in a school hallway. In retrospect, I’m convinced this wasn’t a coincidence.

There was also a catch. My father is a meticulously practical man, and though he freely offered up the keys to the family car, this privilege came with the clear caveat that not only would I pay for my own fuel, I would also pay him mileage to account for the wear and tear I was exerting on this nadir of American automotive design. I was essentially renting the family car from my dad.