My First Car
(Disclaimer: most of these car photos are just for reference snagged from the internet, others are the actual "first cars")
Hunter Green Jeep Cherokee
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Janessa. She had an ol’ 1996 Hunter Green Jeep Cherokee. It may have been a little worn down, but she loved it with all her heart. As a new car owner, she was not fully accustomed to her new whip. One day on her way home after a long day at work. She realized that she did not know where the button was to turn on her head lights. She searched high and low for that button. But to her chagrin she lost hope. With no other alternative she texted her husband. He requested a picture of the panel. Within seconds he says it was to the left of the steering wheel. With joy she goes to check so we can be on her way home. She looks but does not see it. Not wanting to bother her husband even more she continues her search for the button. After 20 minutes of searching, she messages her husband that she could not find it. Frustrated her husband took the picture and put a circle around the switch. Dumbfounded, she realized that she was not looking for a button but a knob. Finally! She was ready to go home.
I did not have another car of my own until almost 10 years later. I got around on that 10- speed, the brand-new Missoula city buses, friends and roommates who felt sorry for me and gave me rides, and long trips on the Intermountain Bus system between Missoula and Sun River.
First car...hmm, are we talking first one I was allowed to drive or the first one I owned? I am gonna go with owned, cause it was the most awesome car ever! Clancy and I really wanted a car of our own so we pooled our money...we had a whooping $500!
This was back in 1995. So many many moons ago! WE found us a beaut! It was owned by a relative of Mike Perez, a good friend of Clancy’s. It was a 1980 AMC Concord! White and well loved! IT has some awesome features...Troy *might* remember going for a test ride in it with me one day. I say he might, because we got going on the test ride and the heavens opened and down poured the wet stuff!
We had two issues with that, first, the windscreen was bubbled. It already looked like it had permanent rain drops on it, and then, well, the wipers went kaput! Beings that Carrie’s husband should have been a farmer for his skills in improv, he made a makeshift hand operated wiper system...he tied a rope or string to the blade on the drivers side, and while driving down the road, he pulled on the rope every now and then to wipe the windscreen...that made for wet business since his arm had to be hanging out the window! Carrie might have to check with Troy to see if he remembers this like I do.
But hey, the engine worked great, and beggars couldn’t be choosers, so we handed over our hard earned dough and were then the proud owners of that white beastie!
Now, seeings that it was not just my first car, but Clancy’s too, there is one more story to be heard. I, however, can only tell you my experiences with it. If you want to hear his side and part in this adventure, you will have to ask him!
Months later I decided to go work in Jackson Hole Wyoming.
Yes, you guessed it, I drove that car all the way there. I did have one minor scare....it’s called inexperience on mountain passes and i thought I was going to die coming down into Jackson...that pass was steep and my brakes weren’t strong enough for the job! I know (now anyway) I should have down shifted...I knew that in a manual transmission it was what you did, but the thought never even crossed my mind in my automatic!
By the time I got to the bottom the brakes were smoking and the stop lights we red (not sure what dumb bunny decided they should be placed RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM). I totally ran through them...in the shoulder of course! Blessedly there was a bit of an up after that which allowed me to slow enough to to throw her into park! Now, in this the time of the dinosaurs when no one, but the wealthy had cell phones, forced me to hunt down a pay phone so I could call my mommy to tell her of my frightening, life and death experience...to which she said, “Ryanne! Why didn’t you just down shift, that would have slowed you down! Now, go have some one see if your brakes are shot!” I am not gonna lie, I had hoped for a bit more sympathy, but the good advice was later welcomed and I have since, never had smoking brakes after coming down a pass!
I loved that car! I am not joking, I loved it bubbled windscreen and all! It was my car and it took great care of me that summer! I even drove it to Colorado to see Sean and Dawn when Gramma Booher and Megan flew down for a visit.
That Was another experience I shan’t soon forget. Sean, Dawn, Gramma and Megan met me part way so I wouldn’t have t drive the whole way on my own. Well, Megan hopped in the car with me and as went to get on the freeway, my car died. PFFT!
No big deal right? I could just fire her right back up and off we’d go...only, ya see, there was a hitch hiker that was on that ramp trying to, well, hitch a ride. Megan and I were freaking out as I frantically tried to get the old girls to start, you see, that hiker was headed for my car, more than likely thinking these two young chickies were his ticket! It started right as he was about to reach for the door! I slammed on the gas peddle leaving the hitchhiker some what peeved and shocked I am sure!
When we arrived safe and sound at Sean’s house, I got an ear full on how picking up strangers was a sure fire way to die! I tried to cut in to tell him the car had stalled, but he was on a roll, letting me have it for a good ten minutes before we could get our side of the story out!
The trip home from Colorado spelled the end of our relationship of car and owner. Part way home she started acting real funny. I wasn’t sure what was up. I just wanted to make it home to my apartment before she died. I *might* have driven WAY over the allowed limit, when coming down a particularly steep hill that was one of those up/down ones, I saw a Highway Patrolman coming down the other side. I took a quick look at the speedometer and instantly decided to slow my rate of speed 20 or 30 mph. Well, he noticed my rapid deceleration, at the bottom, he threw on his lights and pulled me over.
He asked me if I knew the limit, in response, I sheepishly told him 55mph. His next question was one I REALLY didn’t want to answer...do you know how fast you were traveling young lady...again, only more sheepishly this time, and rather red in the face, I replied nearly in a whisper, 95mph. I decided I should be honest since I knew he already knew the answer. And honesty is the best policy...right?
He explained that he could arrest me and haul me to jail for reckless endangerment and such, but as we were talking he noticed the Book of Mormon in the back seat. He, must have been a member of the church because he proceeded to ask me who my bishop was in Jackson, I told him it was Bishop Love, and mentioned he was my boss as well. That was a good answer for sure! He said that they were good friends. Then pulled out his ticket book and wrote me a $5.00 conservation ticket which I was able to pay on the spot. He made me promise to slow it down and be safe!
The rest of the trip was less eventful, worrisome, but less eventful. At one place I stopped for fuel and oil...she was guzzling the oil nearly as fast as the gas, a guy looked at the engine and told me I had blown a main seal thingy... I did make it to Jackson, but only just. I pulled into the driveway where she sighed a huge death sigh and !poof! that was that! Blessings come to those trying to be good, because it just so happened that my friend Ana who worked with me had two brothers that were mechanics AND had a love for AMC cars! They bought that old girl from me for $750! So Clancy and I made a sweet little profit off that car in the end!
For some the question of: “What was your first car?” is easy. But, for others, it's not that cut and dried. One's first car could be the first car you drove, the first car you remember your parents owning, the first car you bought or the first car that you got because you married someone who had a car! So what “first car” story do I write?
The first vehicle I really remember was the red International Harvester Travelall (I had to consult sources to get the type of vehicle correct! All I really remember was it was red and big!).
I also remember the big green station-wagon.
I remember the Oldsmobile Toronado and the trip we took to California in it. You could start that car with out the key for some strange reason.
The car we had when I started to drive was the brown Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. I may have gotten a little too close to the Frenchtown Elementary school and scraped it along the passenger side.
The vehicle Dad taught me to drive stick on was a little white and blue Ford Courier in the Church parking-lot.
The car I got by marriage was a 1984 Toyota Starlet. Troy’s parents had bought it brand-new and he bought a new engine for it in 1989 or 1990. Troy had welded the seat in place so if you were shorter than him, it was a little difficult to push the clutch all the way to the floor with out modifying the way you sat in the seat. For a while, I kept a pillow in the car to put behind me. I eventually just learned to sit forward far enough to be able to shift properly. We drove that car back and forth between Phoenix and Vegas a few times. Hauled it all the way to Ephrata, Washington and drove over to visit Colleen and family in Frenchtown at least once. We sold it to Clancy for a dollar.
When we were expecting Shantel we decided that we might need a bigger vehicle. Troy was working at Barry Chevrolet (now Barry Automotive) and we purchased a grey 1980’s Chevy Caprice Classic. This technically could be considered my first car as it was the first one that had my name on the title with Troy’s. It was a big ole boat that just floated down the freeway. I frequently drove faster than one maybe should, you just didn’t realize that you were driving that fast. A very nice comfortable car. We moved to Helena, Montana in that car and then down to Indian Springs, Nevada and then when we moved into our house in Vegas we had to buy a new vehicle.
After we moved to Lindsay,Montana, we inherited a red 1979 Jeep CJ 7. And it is the only vehicle that has been registered in my name only, so that could be considered my first vehicle in a sense too. Now that was a fun vehicle to drive but not very practical for a growing family so we had to pass her on to another couple. We still see it around town sometimes.
2-19-21
My first car was a truck, so it was.
I wrote a poem about it when i was driving for Nestle's, hauling potatoes to the processing plants in Moses Lake and Othello, Washington. I had started my employment there in 1993 and continued until my retirement on my birthday in 2000.
Early in that period of time I attended a local Cowboy Poetry event and decided I could do that, stand and recite poetry. After all, I had already written a few poems. Poems I had written during my long haul truck driving years.
These poems were made up as I drove down the road as a means of relieving the boredom and road hypnotism on those long trips. I would repeat them over and over until I stopped, then jot them down.
So I memorized a bunch of them and regaled my fellow Nestle drivers with them whenever we had waiting time. I also wrote many more poems during my potato hauling time.
The guys told me to put my poems in a book and they kept hounding me until I finally gave in and published a few I had at the time as TRUCKER'S LIFE.
"My First Truck" was written one night after a conversation with one of my co-workers about our first cars, so it was.
My First Truck
I was cruising around town,
Just turning my wheels
Without a care in the world.
You know how it feels
To be sixteen and driving
Your first pickup truck.
On the day I found it, I
Knew I was in luck.
I don't recall what it cost,
But it wasn't much.
That worked okay, because I
Didn't have a bunch.
I took it to my dad so
He could check it out,
And he said it was worth the
price, without a doubt.
It was not a sporty rig
And it wasn't fast,
But that old Dodge pickup truck
Sure was built to last.
It got me work and where
I needed to go,
And I wasn't bothered 'cause
I had to go slow.
I would load it down with stuff
And haul it around,
And then on Saturday night,
I'd drive it to town.
I'd get my friends to pile in,
Then go for a ride.
My '39 pickup gave
Me a lot of pride.
As I would cruise around town,
Just turning my wheels
Without a care in the world;
You know how it feels.
Daren Flynn
copyright 1997
The Hot Little Yellow ‘Four on the Floor’ Datsun My first car....
I had two first cars, actually...the first one I drove and the first one I owned. The first one I owned doesn’t have much of a story. But..the first one I drove now THAT one IS a story.
A 1970 yellow “four on the floor”—I had to say that to make it sound really cool—Datsun station wagon. I think it was the first—maybe only—new car Mom and Dad ever bought. Before I drove it, it had a reputation—it was kind of like a circus car. Pretty sure it was built only to hold five passengers. But there were six of us in the family.... We—I guess that must have been Mom or Dad—would take everyone to church activities it. We would pull up to the building, the doors would open and kids just stared falling out, tumbling over each other, dusting themselves off and rushing inside. I’m pretty sure we had 10 in there one time.
I think dads are best suited for teaching kids to drive—less likely to freak out. My first driving memory came before I had a permit or drivers ed or anything. We lived in Clarkston, Washington. I’m sure I must have been begging Dad to let me drive even though in Washington the age for driving was 16 and I was only 14. Anyway, Dad gave me the keys and we headed towards downtown. The only thing I really remember was pulling into a parking spot beside a brick building. I hit the gas pedal instead of the brakes and headed straight for the brick wall! I don’t remember exactly what Dad said he didn’t yell at me and I found the brakes and stopped the care without hitting the wall.
We moved to Missoula a few months later; I enrolled in Drivers Ed during summer school at Sentinel High School. In those days, as soon as you turned 15 if you had finished drivers ed you could get your license—no hours to log. So, I got my drivers license and a few days later I got my first ticket on my way to Mutual—failure to yield the right of way to a cop—I mean at an unmarked intersection. We fought that one Dad and I in court and won. A few years later the officer was killed in the line of duty.
Sometime after the beginning of my sophomore year, I started driving myself to seminary at the Missoula Stake Center on Bancroft. All of the high school students in Missoula me together by class. Afterwards, I drove to Hellgate and often gave rides to other students. I clearly recall one morning’s adventure. Steve Capener and Rory Thompson were riding in the backseat—I don’t know who was in the front—JoAnne? Tracie?—anyway, as we entered the intersection of South Ave and S. Higgins, those boys proceeded to open the backdoors to—while we were moving, mind you—climb out the backdoors and in the front doors. I was terrified and incensed and immediately stopped the car. I know the intention was to refuse to take them any further. I don’t remember if that is actually how it came down since I have always been such a pushover.
After Sean got his drivers license, we had to share the car. One winter the roads around Hellgate High School were slick, lots of unmarked intersections and teenage drivers. Sean was driving the Datsun and got broadsided on the passenger side. He didn’t get hurt but that door never opened again, so our passengers just came in through the drivers side door and climbed across the gear shift...I was totally mortified at first! I didn’t want anyone to see me get out of or into that car.
Eventually tho’ it turned into a lot of fun. My best friend, Tracie Terry and I had lots of adventure in that car.
Everyone of us put a dent in that car. Dad backed into the light post at the Institute, Mom ran into the hitch on the front of the house and on a winter evening up Grant Creek, I slid off the Heppler’s driveway into a tree.
In the end, the car went to Val Smith, my erstwhile mechanic, who converted it into a dune buggy.
By: Colleen Holmquist
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