My first car was Sally, a '94 Mustang with no heat, no A/C, sometimes inconsistent brakes, and a bit of rust. She was lent to me for use under the agreement that I paid for her gas, her repairs, and my insurance.
I was almost 16 1/2 when I finally took the test and became a licensed driver and she really became my car.
Even then, my mom rarely let me drive alone.
I could drive to school (0.8 miles from my house).
Work (6.6 miles).
And Giant Eagle (1.8 miles).
Other than my sister, no one else was permitted in the car with me.
So, like any 16 year old that knows it all, I rebelled.
As far as my family knew, Sally and I were supposed to be going to work; a 6 hour shift on a Friday night.
Actually, we went to Lindsay's house, I changed out of work clothes, and headed to the mall to meet up with other friends. It was my first time driving in bad mall traffic, but we made it. We spent a few hours shopping, snacking, talking and reveling in our victory. I mean, that was by far the worst thing I had ever done, I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be, breaking the rules, and free!
I arrived home, on time, in one piece, and with parents that had no clue. I sneaked my purchases into the house and went on with life.
That was the first of many secret high school adventures, because Sally was my transportation for almost three years. She was my way to get away after breakups, she taught me responsibility, she ran errands between school and drama practice, and she drove pizza delivery at work.
She was a frustrating, amazing, expensive, freeing, high-maintenance piece of machinery, but she'll always be my first car and I'll always have a little love for her memory.
Linking up with Carla at "This Messy Heart"!