So, you have to be toted around by your mom. Ouch. Can you say, lame? And please don't tell me that you go on a dates with your mom as a chaueffer.
I remember those days! Boy it's hard to be cool and tough when you can't drive.
Getting a license is like growing wings; it enables you to get up and go! Suddenly it is fun to just DRIVE!
"Where?" you ask.
Who cares! Let's just hit the road...
Ah, those were the days! I remember saving for two years to buy my first car. My boss was selling his SPITFIRE convertible... and I had saved enough cashola to buy it!
I wanted that car SO BADLY!! But my parents said, "NO!"
In fact, they told me I had to give the two thousand and some dollars (that I had washed dishes for 2 years to save) to them so they could buy me a SAFE car...
Of course, this, is what they bought me - with my own hard earned money!
Oh the Humanity!
A Station wagon? What were my parents thinking?
Well, I'm a parent now, and I know exactly what they were thinking, "Dear Lord that boy is going to kill himself in that Spitfire!"
Maybe they were right- I probably would have driven too fast and who knows...
But a station wagon? Come on!!
A year or so later I bought a cool old '79 Ford 150- one of the chefs where I worked financed it for me. He even rebuilt the carborator for me (He put a few pieces in up-side-down, but I didn't hold it against him!).
I painted a skull in sunglasses smoking a cigarette on each door with smoke trailing down the side of the truck and turning into a screaming ghost!
I painted a skull and cross bones on all 4 hubcap covers...
Yes, it was hideous!
Hideously beautiful, that is!
I even wrote that truck into my novel, THE RIFT RIDERS!
Man I miss that old truck!