With my oldest child’s recent “first car purchase” AND the recent onslaught of “flashback photos” on Facebook from my old high school friends, I’ve been doing some digging. Digging through my old photos has been a lot of fun! I found photos that I’d completely forgotten about and I finally found SOME pictures that I knew I had. . . just not sure WHERE. When you get to be as old as I am. . . . . you’ve collected quite a few photos so I can see how this is going to be an ongoing journey.

Today, I want to share MY first car purchase and what I was thinking about the whole time I was helping my oldest child with his. Well, it wasn’t “technically” my first car, but it WAS my first car ‘purchase’. My first car was given to me by my dad and I only WISH I had a picture of that thing. Truly, it would require a picture just to prove that I wasn’t exaggerating. In roughly 1979, my dad, who was a mechanic/body repairman, found me a car for a steal. [The words "found" and "steal" are used VERY loosely here because no one knows the REAL story. I can only guess that the car was never missed.] It was a 1972 Datsun something and this car was a trip! There wasn’t one square foot on the car that didn’t have a dent. The trunk didn’t have a lock mechanism. It was just a hole that you stuck your finger in to lift the little lever. This is where I stored a case of oil because I had to add a quart of oil EVERY SINGLE DAY. This car looked like the character, Pigpen, from the Charlie Brown cartoon. It seriously was one giant puff of rolling smoke when it was in motion. I had to put air in the tires every other day. And also, once, I stuck a metal fingernail file into the ignition (because I’d left my keys in the house), turned the key to Start, rolled the car down the hill, popped the clutch and started the car. I drove it to the burger joint where my sister was working, left the car running in the parking lot, went in and got her keys to the house and she asked how the car was running. I had to show her the fingernail file sticking out of the ignition. Yep, this car was a true piece of crap. I have more stories, but I think you get the picture.

So when it came time for me to make MY new car purchase, I was in dire need to say the least. My dear friend’s father, Mr. Huffaker, who is now lovingly referred to as Big Jim (I LOVE that!) was the one person who helped me out. I talked about him earlier here. Such a darlin’ man!!! So THIS is the REST of that story. . . .

It was 1980 and I was 19 years old and I’d already been shopping around for awhile. (It’s what me and my friend, Jimmy, did all the time) I had narrowed it down to some Datsun or Toyota of some sort. Only they turned me down on my loan, which was very depressing. I then went to another car dealership and found a Honda Civic that was in my price range. By then, I was VERY apprehensive about applying for a loan. I had NO co-signer and I had little to no credit history. That’s when I called in the big guns (Big Jim). After the initial professional questions and advice, he gave me the thumbs up. I went to the car dealer the next day, applied for my loan and he came back and I remember this like it was yesterday. . . . he said, quote unquote “I know people with $100,000 in the bank that have more trouble getting a loan than you did.” I just smiled, thanking Mr. Huffaker from my heart.

This was my first car, a 1980 Honda Civic. I paid $3,750 for it. It had no radio and no air conditioning – NO perks, but it ran. That was all I needed. (Although, seriously, nobody in their right mind should EVER buy a car with no air condioning if you live in Mississippi. Summers there are brutal!)

JUST A NOTE: I sold that car 5 years later for $2,000. I’d say I got my money’s worth.

This is the picture I sent to my friends who were away at college. I mean, a girl’s gotta brag, right?

That’s Dennis Scott in the background. He’s the only one in our pack that we can’t locate. I have stories about him too that I can share, but that’s for another post – about how his mother helped me out in a slightly different way, yet was equally as helpful as Marty’s dad. Thank goodness for having good friends!

It’s been a blast digging through the archive photo albums and chatting with friends from a different lifetime ago on Facebook. For now, I plan on sharing these stories. . . if for no other reason, so that they’re written down before my memory completely fails me. Menopause SUCKS!! Have I mentioned that?

Thank you and have a lovely day!!