The car he has been driving was passed down from my husband who drove it for four years, to my oldest son, who drove it for four years through college, to him.
We had hoped that this little car would be able to gasp out a few more miles and possibly get him through a year or two of college as well.
There were a few problems with this notion. One is that it was a little car and my son is 6 feet, 5 inches tall. He had to fold himself in half twice to get in and out of that little car.
The second problem is that the car had a chronic disease of some kind.
My son’s girlfriend gave him a novelty license plate that read, quite appropriately: “Honk if parts fall off!” Needless to say, there was a lot of honking going on in his world.
One day last week that little car finally bit the dust. We gave it a nice funeral and invited all of its former owners; a kind of impromptu family reunion.
My son and I went looking for another car for him to drive.
He didn’t have a lot of money to spend, and my husband and I were pretty apprehensive about his getting another beater because he would be five hours away when he goes to college; not close enough for us to drop everything and run to his rescue. Not to worry though; coincidentally, my son didn’t want a beater either.
We looked at all kinds of vehicles, but mostly the ones an 18-year-old boy would want. Vehicles that looked like they went fast even though when you started them, they sounded like a weed eater in overdrive. Vehicles that had racing stripes and engines sticking out the tops of the hoods and stereos systems that had more amps than The Rolling Stones.
I let him get an eyeful, and then I let him see the price tag. He knew he couldn’t afford them, so our shopping expedition was more like going to a car show — you can look, but you can’t buy.
One day, my husband and my son were riding around and saw a little red pickup truck that my son declared was perfect. It was so perfect that he decided he couldn’t afford it, so they never asked how much it was.
A few days later, I passed the same spot, saw the truck, thought he would like it, and went in to find out how much it was. I didn’t know that it was the same truck he’d been talking about for days.
When I drove him to see it and told him the price, his eyes lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Then, before I could say “annual percentage rate,” he came up with the most creative plan for financing this vehicle. I was stunned. I didn’t even know he could do that kind of math!
I was still stunned when we walked out of the dealership with the keys in hand. Have you ever seen a 6-foot 5-inch guy jump up and down when there wasn’t a basketball involved? It was awe-inspiring.
The one thing to which we failed to give proper attention is the fact that this truck had a standard transmission.
He doesn’t know how to drive a standard transmission. So I had to drive the truck home, which really annoyed him.
As visions of whiplash danced in my head, I accepted the fact that I had to be the one to teach him how to drive his new truck. I sat in the passenger’s seat for a very long hour as he made that little truck jump around like a jacket rabbit in mating season.
By the time he finally got it, my head had detached itself from my shoulders. I scooped it up, stumbled into the house for an aspirin and some duct tape, and he took off to pick up his girlfriend. Hopefully, she’ll still love him in spite of his new truck.
Laura Snyder may be reached at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com. Her Website is www.lauraonlife.com.
