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My sister called me from Kentucky to tell me she was driving home in a new(ish) car.
It was the first time she was able to buy a car all by herself, with no loans or help from my parents.
I told her congratulations and shared in her excitement of being able to buy and afford a car that she wanted and liked.
But talking to her started my reminiscing machine and got me thinking about all the cars in my past. I was always excited when I got them and always just a little relieved when I got rid of them.
My first car was a 1989 Mercury Tracer hatchback. Ah, what a beautiful dead-carcass brown color it was. Complete with a tape player and seat belts for three of the four seats.
<b>Read Jarid Shipley's complete column by picking up Thursday's Nevada Appeal or checking out his blog at www.nevadaappeal.com/partyofone.<;/b>
It was the first time she was able to buy a car all by herself, with no loans or help from my parents.
I told her congratulations and shared in her excitement of being able to buy and afford a car that she wanted and liked.
But talking to her started my reminiscing machine and got me thinking about all the cars in my past. I was always excited when I got them and always just a little relieved when I got rid of them.
My first car was a 1989 Mercury Tracer hatchback. Ah, what a beautiful dead-carcass brown color it was. Complete with a tape player and seat belts for three of the four seats.
<b>Read Jarid Shipley's complete column by picking up Thursday's Nevada Appeal or checking out his blog at www.nevadaappeal.com/partyofone.<;/b>
