I’ve been thinking about cars for the last couple of days. It all started when our granddaughter received her first car from her parents. It was kind of an Easter surprise and Kathie and I were there to witness the exciting time.

The car was flashy red in color and very sporty looking. The odometer read only 37,000 miles so it was just getting broken in. Our granddaughter had not seen the car until her parents purchased it, brought it home and had it sitting in the garage when she came home from school.

She was ecstatic with the car, in fact, so ecstatic that she actually hugged her mom after viewing the car for the first time. Imagine that a teenage girl hugging her mom. That speaks volumes!

Witnessing that event triggered memories that came rushing back into my mind. In fact the memories had a date stamped on them, the summer of 1991. We had a daughter who was in need of transportation too. So we did something very similar we went out and got her a car.

Now I’m just a guy so how am I expected to understand how the female mind works. There were no hugs shared when I drove down the driveway with my beautiful purchase. In fact both our daughters became hostile when they viewed the newest addition to the family’s stable of vehicles.

As I look back now I realize the car did have a few drawbacks. It was sixteen years old and was pea-green in color. But it was a ‘one owner’ vehicle and had been well cared for. The interior was immaculate and there was not one spot of rust on it.

It only had 49,000 miles on it. That should have counted for something but only I was impressed by that fact.

Our two girls refused to drive or ride in it at first. I was shocked and my feelings were hurt. But I quickly realized my two daughters’ feelings were even more severely damaged.

I will never forget the day we were bringing 4-H exhibits into the Traverse County Fair. Our youngest daughter had ridden into the fair in our other car with her older sister. (Remember the oldest daughter would not and I mean would not drive our new mode of transportation.)

When it came time to return home the sixteen year old 1976 Plymouth Valiant  was the only vehicle left on the fairgrounds as our older daughter had taken the other vehicle to her job at the nursing home where she worked as a CNA.

After several minutes of heated discussion I convinced our daughter that she needed to get in the backseat of the ’embarrassing’ car if she wanted a ride home. Voicing her indignation very loudly she crawled into the backseat and laid down so her seventh grade friends couldn’t see her.

I remember that ride down the main street of Wheaton like it was yesterday. She was crying loudly suffering embarrassment and I was slouching down behind the steering wheel suffering my own kind of embarrassment! 🙂

Finally our oldest daughter caved and would occasionally drive the old Plymouth when our other car was in use.

But the car that I loved caused too much dissention to the family unit. In fact the family unit was beginning to fall apart with the ever presence of that immaculate, pea-green vehicle. So I did what any red blooded American dad would do under the same circumstances. I parked the sixteen year old, rust free beauty at the end of our driveway with a big “For Sale” sign pasted on the windshield.

It sold very quickly. A man from a neighboring town recognized the same qualities that had impressed me. We men think alike you know. Also he told me that the pea-green vehicle had a slant six engine which was really awesome and would run forever. Not being mechanical I just smiled and nodded in agreement.

I was asking $500 for the car and before I knew it he was haggling with me and he handed me three one hundred dollar bills and the deal was done. What a relief as our family unit began to return to normal.

Oh, but that’s not the end of the story. As the years flew by and I would be driving through that neighboring town I would drive by the gas station that the car buyer owned. There next to the air compressor sat my 1976, low mileage, pea-green Plymouth Valiant. The buyer was right, that car would drive forever.

Years later I was visiting with a superintendent of schools who had the same last name as the man who bought the Plymouth. I asked her if she was related to the man who bought my car.

Her eyes lit up and she responded, “Why, yes, that’s my Dad.”

So I shared my story of my beautiful, pea-green Plymouth being rejected by the women in my family and added that her Dad had bought my beloved car and as a result reinstated harmony in our family once more.

I noticed her face suddenly becoming very stern. Her eyes flashed as she snapped, “Yes, he did buy that old clunker and brought it home and made me drive it back and forth to college for four years! What an embarrassing four years that was!”

I asked her if he bragged about the fantastic slant six engine that ran forever and she nodded. I don’t think she was happy that her Dad was right on that fact either.

So what’s the moral of the story? Never surprise your daughter with a used car. Take her shopping for one instead.

Just a minute. As I think about it shopping for a car with your daughter has its downfalls too. I tried that with our youngest daughter when she became of age and that didn’t work out too well either. But that’s a story for another blog. 🙂

Until next time.