My First Car

This is an edited version of a post I did about a year and a half ago. I was talking about this incident with Mer on our recent road trip and she forgot all about it, so I will repost it in her honor.

In 1981 I owned a 1968 Cadillac. It was beautiful. Big boat car. I loved that car. I bought it for a few hundred dollars, I don’t remember from whom or where. My boyfriend at the time wanted that car, I am sure. He was always using me to get one thing or another. I was very dumb and naive back then. I was 18 years old.

I didn’t have the car for very long. My so-called boyfriend would drop me off and use the car while I was at work. Most of the time he used it to take out girls. Yeah, great man. Anyway, I sold the car to some housemates of ours. (We lived in a pretty crazy place, which is a WHOLE other story)

My poor car didn’t last long with the two people to whom I sold it. That car was beautiful, but had its problems, too. I had already replaced the radiator. Anyway. one night, while the two owners were using it for who knows what, the car stalled in the middle of some railroad tracks. Yep, you guessed it, just like in a cartoon a train was coming. The two men tried to get the car started, but they had no luck. They jumped out of the car in time to watch the train cut the car clean in half.

The back half of the car was on the side of the tracks with the two men. They ran to the trunk and started to remove all the contents. Someone called the police because they arrived before the two could finish. What was so important they had to get out of the trunk? Guns. Unregistered guns.

Both men spent some time in jail. But my old Cadillac was finished. In two pieces; towed away.

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