Cars Known and Owned

Over the years, I've found myself dating things according to either when my children were born or what car I owned at the time--or both.

For example, I remember the year I began teaching in Pennsylvania because it was just before our first child was born. And I recall the year we moved to new jobs in South Carolina because it was the year our third minivan died and we had to buy the Mazda.

I've recently been recalling all the vehicles I've owned since I began driving.

The first car I drove was my parents' 1965 Oldsmobile F-85. An automatic, green, four-door, it clearly was a "family" car, never to be mistaken for a hot rod or muscle car.

When I was preparing to embark on my student teaching duties during my senior year of college, I needed a car to get to and from whichever school to which I would be assigned. Knowing that I didn't have money to buy a car, my parents gave me the F-85, and Daddy bought himself the only used car I ever recall his buying.

When I got my teaching assignment, it was at the university's own academy, located right there on the campus. I didn't need a car after all, but my parents let me keep it. It wasn't an attractive car to most of the guys on campus, but it was a set of wheels, and it was amazing how many of the guys who needed a right off campus suddenly became my friends.

That F-85 was my car when I married and for the first year and a half afterwards. But then I felt that it was "nickel-and-diming" me with minor repairs, so we shopped for a replacement. We wanted something cool, sporty, less "family" looking, so we bought a used two-door, blue-and-white 1973 Olds Omega hatchback with fancy wheels, a real looker. A powerful V-8.

A few months later, just after we moved to Pennsylvania, reality hit us from all sides. First, our first child was born. Pennsylvania had a strict (for that time) car-seat law for children. We quickly discovered that putting an infant into a car seat in a two-door coupe is no easy task.

Second, driving that V-8 15 miles one way to work five days a week and often more because of school programs and twice on Sunday to church was hard on the wallet. The price of gas was low in contrast to today's prices, but so was my salary. And Pennsylvania had high gas taxes.

Third, the gas crisis hit, prices went through the roof, and Pennsylvania began rationing fuel. We could get gas only every other day according to the last (or was it the first?) numeral on one's license plate. We decided that the beloved Omega had to go.

So we got a great deal on our trade-in and an even better deal on the purchase of a brand new four-door, four-cylinder, stick-shift, 1980 Chevrolet Chevette. A sure-fire gas saver. We could save on gas and easily get the baby into and out of the back seat. We even got a letter of appreciation from the governor for safely and legally having our baby in the car seat after a state policeman followed us for several miles and observed our compliance.

But soon we had another baby, and two full-sized car seats in the back seat of a Chevette made things a bit cozy, but we managed. But then came the third child, and we knew we'd never be able to fit another car seat into the Chevette. And cargo space would be sorely lacking whenever we traveled back to Tennessee to see my father. Something had to give.

We bought a new silver 1985 Plymouth Voyager minivan. Six cylinder stick shift, so it wasn't too bad on gas. Besides, the gas crisis had eased. Plenty of seating for three kids--soon to be four. We had that van when we moved to Tennessee.

Then one afternoon, when the new-car smell was still a reality--a teenage driver pulled out in front of my wife as she went to pick up our two youngest kids from the babysitter's. Totaled it.

That necessitated our next car purchase, a new white, automatic, 1990 Plymouth Grand Voyager. Even more room. Just as good a car as the silver Voyager but with more room. But after several years and many miles, it began to smoke. Our mechanic advised us to start looking for a replacement; his experience had taught him that the symptoms were terminal, inoperable.

Meanwhile, my in-laws had retired and were moving to Florida. They gave us first dibs on their tan-with-sport-striping, four cylinder, stick shift, 1985 Mazda B2000 pickup. We had driven it often when we lived in Pennsylvania and loved it. Without thinking twice, we drove to Pennsylvania, transferred the title, and drove it back. We had it until about 2016, when we sold it to our lawn mower repairman.

We replaced the B2000 with a used 2015 Ford F-150. Hey, every homeowner needs a truck big enough to haul mulch and project materials. The problem is that my wife can't reach the pedals or see over the steering wheel, so she doesn't drive it. Won't even try.

In our search for a replacement for the Grand Voyager, we were on a tight budget, so we had to settle for a used one, but it was from my brother-in-law's parents, who we knew had cared for it well. A wooden-paneled 1989 Dodge Caravan, stretch version. Loved it. Plenty of room. A true family vehicle that took us on many trips to Florida and back. The kids even gave it a name--Woody.

But then, it too started smoking. Again, our mechanic--a different one in a different state--had the same diagnosis as for the 1990 Grand Voyager: the problem was unsolvable and we'd better start looking for a replacement.

The replacement was a 2004 Mazda Tribute. Six-cylinder, four-door hatchback. And why not? The Mazda B2000 had been a joy to own and drive. Easy on gas. A fun vehicle to drive.

Space was tight on the Tribute, but our four kids were out of the house, two with their own cars and places to live and the other two living in college dorms with only an occasional short ride in the Tribute. We could live with that.

But as so often happens, the Second Law of Thermodynamics affects motor vehicles, too, and things began to go wrong. Again the mechanic advised us to start looking, and our looking resulted in the purchase of a new 2013 Dodge Journey.

So far, our journey with the Journey has been tolerable. I just wish I'd known where the battery was before we bought it. I might have kept looking for something a bit easier to access and less expensive to replace. We hope it will hold on for several more years because with our being retired, we're once again on a tight budget. Come to think of it, we're almost in the same boat as when we got married and had the F-85.

Our next vehicle might be a walker--it won't be a gas guzzler, and it won't be too generous on space, but it might be a dualie, and those neon yellow tennis-ball wheels on the rear will certainly get a lot of attention!