I was thinking of my first car the other day. There are some incredibly stupid stories there...
I learned to drive from my sister, who taught me to drive her mustang when I was 7. I'd sit on the console and run the gas and steering wheel. When I was 12 or 13 she taught me to drive a standard in her firebird. Oddly enough, I ended up teaching my oldest sister (9 years older) how to drive a standard before I could even drive. I grew up with Dukes of Hazard as driving influences.
I was in 8th grade the first time I stole my moms car. There were a few occasions between 8th and 10th grade that i did that, always when they were away. As with any driving story I might tell, I can say that I am very lucky to be alive. I'm also very lucky that I never damaged my moms car, unlike my friend who totaled BOTH parents cars once. But maybe I can get him to tell that story another time.
So anyway, I was a fairly experienced driver when I got my license. I worked a lot and had my own money, so I was able to get whatever car I wanted instead of the tamer, mellower car my mom wanted me to get. My friend worked at a garage/gas station, and the mechanic there had a project car he needed to part with. It was a 1973 Ford Maverick. This was a mechanics project car: 302, high rise manifold, big four barrel carb, headers, 4 speed hurst shifter, and eagle gts all around. It was flat black primer color, and had leather seats and mag wheels. It was about the coolest car I could imagine as a testerone addled, imbecile of a 16 year old. I bought it for $800 and had it registered the first day I was able to drive legally.
So this car, which was probably somewhere around 300 h.p. with manual steering, was a fucking beast. I wish that I cold have made it last longer than it did...
One of the first dumb things I did with it was also one of the most insane driving things I have done in my life. This was like the first week I had the car. I was at a party in the next town over, so I wasn't that familiar with the streets in that neighborhood. We were leaving the party, and my friend pulled out ahead of me in his moms ancient ford fiesta. given the vintage of that car, he was going really, really slow, and I, in my new fast car was tailgating him excessively, revving the engine, etc. I wanted to show off my new wheels and leave him in the dust sooo bad. After a minute he swerves out of the way to the right, so I stomp on the gas...only to be slammed practically out of my seat as we hit a traffic island. Not just a typical traffic island, this thing was a giant mound of grass with sloping sides, a perfect jump. After we slammed down on the other side and came to a stop we got out and went back to look. there were tire tracks going about halfway across the island, ending where we left the earth for a second or two. We totally jumped this fucking traffic mound, Dukes of Hazard style. My friend that swerved out of the way said he looked over and saw us several feet above the island. That was the beginning of the end for that poor car.
