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| 1986 Ford Mustang LX |
Lifestyle Upgrade
I was a junior in college and had scored a scholarship that covered not only tuition, books, and room &board, but also paid me a monthly stipend on top of it. I didn't have a job since I was taking 15-18 hours a semester so that stipend was a God-send to finance my lifestyle. At the time, I was driving around my beloved 1986 Ford Mustang LX shared between me and my father. The car was an ugly, 4 cylinder, gas guzzling death trap (my mom would not drive the car for fear it would get her into an accident or leave her stranded somewhere) BUT it was MINE. When I got a steady stream of money coming in, I decided to use that stipend to help finance my car. I hated having to give up the car because she was my first but at the same time...
Goodbye, Ya Crazy B****!!!
The 1986 Mustang LX throttle-bodied and had a knack of getting stuck open sometimes especially in the hot, Texas weather. So, when you would turn the ignition off, the car would stay on for about 10-30 seconds afterward sputtering and gurgling until it truly ran out of gas. Depending on where I'd park the car, there would be times I'd die of embarrassment in silence while I waited for the car to finish it's creative death scene while onlookers would judge how crappy my car was and feel sorry for that owner sitting in the driver's seat being jostled around violently. I was ready to part with that monster.
Gyat Damn!
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| 1996 Geo Tracker |
I don't remember exactly why I picked this car to be mine; maybe because at the time, the Suzuki Samurai, it's Japanese cousin, was all the rage amongst the hip-hop community (I wanted a Mitsubishi Amigo too) and it was "close enough" to feeling like I'd be "down with the streetz"...or at least as close as a dorky college kid in South Texas could get with a Geo Tracker and a dream. Also, my Tracker was a convertible with a hard top on it; I was living in an apartment complex and had experienced a number of break-ins over the years so having hard top for me was a must. I was stoked at the idea of having a brand new car with some cool-factor built into it.
After finding it on the Chevrolet lot, my dad, girlfriend, and I walked into the office with the salesman and Dad began the dreaded "negotiation" process. My dad could do many things — tell a joke, fry a mean chimichanga, teach you Algebra without breaking a sweat — but a great negotiator, he was not. Since it was my first time buying a car, I kind of stayed out of it and let him do his thing. All I cared about was the monthly payment. I don't remember if that was asked of me but I'm sure he negotiated me paying something close to MSRP on it after all was said and done 😆. As long as I could afford it and it would leave me with some change, I was cool.
Oh, The Chaos!
Dad had authorized them taking the Mustang as a trade-in. Of course, the dealer wanted to drive it around before making an offer on it. "Oh no," I thought. It had barely limped into the dealership — then sputtered for a solid 10 seconds after we parked, as if it was still deciding whether to give up or go out swinging. I got a sick feeling in the pit my stomach as they kept talking. My dad handed over the keys to the service guy dressed in grease-stained blue coveralls and a faded trucker hat; let's call him "Billy Bob". He grabbed the keys and proceeded out the front doors to my red jalopy. "Faaaaaawk," I thought praying the car would behave itself long enough for us to seal this deal in my favor.
As we sat across the salesman desk, I watched Billy Bob get into the car and fire it up with a huge roar; I guess he pumped the gas pretty hard before hitting the ignition. The salesman, whose back was to the calamity about happen behind him, was shuffling paperwork around and maybe trying to upsell us on other services they offered. Billy Bob pulled out of the lot and roared off down the street. "Good," I said to my girlfriend while simultaneously letting out a sigh of relief. I thought, "OK, we're half way done."
About 5 minutes later, Billy Bob enters the lot. I watch him quickly pull back into the same spot where it was parked. He turned the car off. Then the fireworks began. The car convulsed like a chain-smoker at mile 3 of a marathon — coughing, wheezing, and throwing a tantrum like a toddler hopped up on Capri Suns and vengeance. It then lurched forward from its parked position and smacked the yellow cement bollard hard. Billy Bob, slack-jawed and befuddled, jumped out of the car with the quickness. We couldn't hear him but he was saying something to the car looking shocked while motioning with Looney Toons-esque ferver towards others in the adjacent garage.
I busted out laughing hysterically. The salesman and my dad watched me crack up not knowing what the heck was so funny about the contract they were discussing. I excused myself and walked out of the room still laughing. My girlfriend walked out and asked me what was so funny. I did my best to explain it to her (she didn't find it funny) and awaited Billy Bob's verdict on the car.
A Deal Sealed by a Crash
Billy Bob walked into the sales office and yells "500" and walked out just as quickly as he came in. "Deal!" I yelled. To me, that amount was worth more than the headache of having that car (I'm sure we could've gotten more in parts alone) but after that trade-in debacle, I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible with my new car.
I drove that car until it died in 2006. It served me well until the transmission started slipping and I had replaced the starter 3 times in the span of 3 years. The story of that trade-in? It involves heartbreak, a tow truck, and a tearful call to God — but we’ll save that for another chapter.
