Back in the era when one could purchase a disposable camera, I decided to buy one, just for the hell of it. The idea was to take pictures of things I figured my future self would want to remember. If I had a DeLorean, I’d travel back to that moment to tell Edward of the past to invest in Google…and to thank him for the pictures he took of my very first car.
December 26, 2012 marks the 10th anniversary of my being allowed to drive a car legally. It hadn’t been set in stone that the Taurus would be the vehicle my father bestowed on me, but eventually it won out over several candidates–two of which are pictured above, albeit shrouded in snow. The first is an early 90’s Chevy Corsica my dad bought from an acquaintance for a bargain price–and we very quickly found out why. The car had a horrible stench, but one not directly related to the vehicle itself, just like a real-life version of a Seinfeld episode you might recall. Still, I liked the way it drove, and it did have decent power, but the Corsica was not to be.
The other car pictured (just ahead of the stop sign) is a white, completely optionless 1987 Toyota Cressida that was handed down from my uncle. It was a decent enough car, but it paled in comparison with the 1986 Toyota Cressida my sister was driving. Besides, it also suffered from major oil leaks and had other issues, and my dad didn’t want to put any money into it.
That left one remaining option: The car we had bought in 2001, to replace an American sedan (of the same model year) that had died of a blown head gasket after 280,000 miles. My future car had 102,000 miles when he plunked down the cash for it, and 180,000 by the time I got the keys. I didn’t mind too much. I’d always been fond of the car despite the prodigious rust caused by the previous owner, who’d used it to tow a boat somewhere down south. He must have dipped it in the water a couple of times, too.
On April 16, 2003, and all by my lonesome, I was granted the privilege of driving by the state of New York. It was a sweltering-hot day with temperatures in the mid-90s. For 45 minutes, I waited in a line of cars containing equally anxious fellow teenagers. When the woman who would be evaluating my performance got into the passenger seat, she immediately saw that the car didn’t have air conditioning. It was at that point that part of her soul died. Nevertheless, I passed the test and then drove to the nearest Chinese buffet to celebrate with my friends. At first it felt pretty strange not having Dad sitting next to me, but I got over it pretty quickly.
Can any of you younger readers appreciate the bumpers stickers I affixed to my vehicle? I know they’re hard to see, but if you were a fan of those particular bands, you’d know them right away. Also, does something about the right taillight look strange? You see, my Dad smacked the wagon into a tree while backing out of a friend’s driveway one night. That’s red tape you see, and the rust on the side reveals the dent made by the tree. Boy, was I pissed–never mind that the car had lost the war against rust several years before. Judging by the look of the damage, this picture was taken very shortly after I got my license, in summer 2003, when I again braved the New York heat in search of a replacement light. I mistakenly bought one for either an ’86 or 1987 model. That meant it had four fake reverse lights instead of the two you see in the picture. To put things into context, my parking spot was the grass beside our driveway. My Dad’s car is to the right (can you guess what it is?), and my sister’s Cressida occupies the other side, thus giving her the advantage of being closest to our front door.
I even took an interior pic! Obviously, there was a CC Contributing Editor living inside me a decade before I knew it. This nearly spotless interior really was the car’s saving grace, with materials that outclassed the mystery car my dad drove at the time (of the same model year–hint, hint). It also didn’t hurt that the car drove well. I soon fell in love with highway cruising, and with the 3.0-liter Vulcan V6 engine that powered the wagon.
Time passed quickly. By summer’s end in 2004, the car was showing its age and needed work. The heater core blew out on me on the way to the local pharmacy where as I was employed at the time. Smoke came pouring out of the vents, and I was terrified. One tow to the mechanic later and we quickly found the price of the repair to be unacceptable. So we got the Sable,  and the picture above shows the spot my Taurus was relegated to, more or less permanently.
So the Taurus sat. It was still usable, but without a heater core it would only be useful in warmer weather. I got acquainted with my Sable, and several months passed. Snow was on the ground and I looked at the Taurus, all covered in snow, abandoned. My feelings got the better of me and I persuaded my dad to help get the Taurus out of the snow for a quick spin. But the snow was too deep; the bull was stuck. My dad tried rocking it in order to get some momentum going then…SNAP. Both front struts gave out at the same time, leaving the wagon to forever stare at the ground. It was at that moment we knew it was time to say goodbye.
Which leads me to Star Trek III: The Search for Spock. In order to have a fighting chance against the Klingons, Kirk sacrifices the U.S.S. Enterprise, and after escaping danger, the crew looks on as the wreckage of the ship they had served on for twenty five years disintegrates into nothingness. The exchange between Kirk and McCoy here are particularly noteworthy:
Kirk: My God, Bones… what have I done?
McCoy: What you had to do. What you always do: turn death into a fighting chance to live.
Now, our real life experiences won’t be nearly as dramatic as that fantastic scene, but it illustrates an important point: What we’re doing is living; and no matter how attached we become to the people and things we love, they’ll go away eventually. This will happen to my current CC; but others will replace it.
There’s always hope. New memories, people, and machines to become accustomed to. And as long as we remember our past, those things will forever give us solace, in times of despair or happiness.
And now I leave the floor to you, brave CC commentators. Have you ever gone through an experience like mine? Is it shallow to lament the loss of a simple machine? What is the importance of a curbside classic “death?” I’m looking forward to hearing from you all.
Well Written, with good photos, I enjoyed this very much. I also “lost” a car I loved early in my driving life, it was a 1994 Mazda MX3 5 Speed with the tiny but high reving 4 cylinder. I wreaked it in the rain from taking a left turn against traffic and having my tires spin. Luckily no one was injured and I had insurance, also car was messed up cosmetically but not mechanically. I drove it for few more weeks with a half popped open passanger door but enjoyed every minute of it. Still miss that car even though Ive had many nice cars since. Cars are machines that is true, but while they still offer us a direct connection, and complete control it is throughly understandable why us humans can attribute human esque attributes to our beloved cars
Agreed, Jon.
Dad drove a Regal coupe eh.
Are those Taurus wheels on it?
That is exactly how I remember seeing most Taurui of that vintage, rusty as hell.
Yup! You guessed it.
I forget which wheels my Taurus had on it, but the ones pictured were bought at Wal-Mart for twenty bucks to jazz it up a bit.
Great post! The snow, the cars, and the split-entry home reminded me all-too well of my time growing up in the Midwest!
Your Dad drove a W-body Regal coupe, I’d say somewhere around a 1990?
Thanks, Rob.
Bingo! Dad had the 1990 until last year. It was quite the veteran.
My parents bought a 1990 Taurus GL new in the fall of ’89. It, in 1994, became the car that I spent most of my time driving, with my learner’s permit. While the honor of car that I ended up abusing during my early years of driving fell upon my dad’s ’89 Probe LX, the Silver/Blue Taurus remained part of the family long after my folks upgraded to a 1995 Subaru Legacy wagon. “Scoobie” was great, and a hoot to drive, but there was always something special about the big veloury-swathed Taurus. Floaty and soft compared to the much sportier Legacy, but endearing. Dad ultimately traded it in on one of first year Chrysler Cirrus’ to become available (something that’s lamented even to this day). It was a shitbox. A BIG shitbox. But it looked cool enough…
Thanks for the story Matt, I enjoyed it quite a bit.
One of the two driver’s ed cars I experienced was a then-new ’88 Taurus sedan. Same blue interior as yours. Several of my classmates were so totally uncertain about the “overdrive” selection in the transmission. So few people in my neck of the woods had seen them at that time. They would take off in drive and pop it into “overdrive” at speed; a teacher of mine always did that in her ’86 Town Car.
Jason,
That’s a tan interior in the Taurus. The picture isn’t too good though, so I could understand the confusion.
I always left mine in overdrive. In fact I still have the gear choice of normal “D” and overdrive (circle D) in my current CC. I believe you’re supposed to default to the overdrive selection. Heaven help me if I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.
You’re doing it right… according to every single owner’s manual I’ve ever seen, the only time you don’t want it in “OD” is if you’re towing something in stop-and-go traffic. Probably doesn’t even matter anymore on newer automatics with 6-8 gears!
Wow living where we don’t salt the roads because we don’t see that much snow I’ve never seen a rusty Taurus, certainly not one that rusty. Heck my 40 year old Scouts which have a reputation for rusting to death don’t look that bad.
Never seen a rusty Taurus? I about fell outta my seat reading that! Check this out: http://siouxfalls.craigslist.org/cto/3344404646.html — the last picture! Ahh!
That’s what just about EVERY car in Upstate NY looks like after ten years. Unless things have changed since I moved away in 1986, there are no body rust laws.
chas108,
My current CC is fifteen years old and is starting to rust around the rocker panels, but you wouldn’t notice it at first glance. Things have definitely changed since I was born.
New York is surprisingly lax on auto inspections. When I lived upstate, they didn’t even do emissions testing – and they’ve now done away with it statewide for anything pre-OBDII. I think they’re theoretically supposed to inspect the chassis/frame for structural integrity, but I doubt it’s ever done. Plus there’s always places that are willing to look the other way for another $20 or so… I see some truly amazing heaps prowling the streets on a regular basis.
I never noticed that the Taurus & Sable were notorious rustbuckets. This one probably got so bad from being dipped in salt water on the regular, though I’m sure the road salt didn’t help.
That ad is great!!!
“Hood looks good… wow, nice interior… ACK!”
As I said they don’t salt the roads around here so the only rusty cars we see that aren’t really really old are the Hondas that often have rust creeping out from the wheel wells and even that is not that prevalent any more.
You got to love that ad. body not in best shape, I guess not.
I owned a 89 L wagon, it had the rear facing seat in the back. A nice car, good ride and a lot of space. But if you own one and its your only car it will make you a mechanic. i had all the standard Taurus issues and after a few shocks paying someone else to do the work I found out that a good tool set is a must.
I remember being a little sad when my first car was hauled away to the junkyard, but my sadness was tempered by what an utter piece of shit that car was and the insane amount of hours of my life lost fruitlessly wrenching under it’s hood, plus I had already bought something way cooler (and even more mechanically abominable) as it’s replacement. Mostly I was just frustrated with it and mad at it, and myself for not being able to keep it on the road for more than a few days at a time.
Now, many years later, it makes me really nostalgic to think about. Even though the car was shit incarnate, it did create lots of memories. Lots of good times spent working on it with my dad and friends who have moved away, first real job, first real girlfriend, first time getting really high. It taught me the virtues of humbleness and patience, as well as everything I ever needed to know about turning wrenches. Whenever I see one on the road, which is a rare occurrence, I get all misty eyed.
Edward, given the timetable you laid out, is it safe to assume you took advantage of New York’s now defunct “Junior License” loophole, or was the driving age lower in the northern counties back then?
Sean,
I’m not sure, all I know is that I could not get my license until three months after having a learner’s permit. Is that what you’re talking about?
I guess it must have been different upstate then…
When I got my “license”, in 1999, you could get your permit at 16 and had to wait until you were 17 to get a full fledged “D” class license. However, if you already had your permit (at 16) you could go take the road test and be issued a “Junior License” which was, in theory, only for flying solo to work or school… however it looked exactly like the real thing. The only difference was that it was listed as “Class: DJ” instead of “Class: D” in tiny print at the bottom. Everyone I know who had one just drove everywhere with it, myself included, and I never heard of anyone getting into any trouble for it. When you turned 17, they mailed a new “Class: D” one automatically. By the time my brother started driving in 2005 they had done away with it, and I think now they’ve raised the driving age to 18!
I remember a couple years before I could drive one of my friends had a cousin from Florida come up to visit who was 15 and already had her license. I was so jealous!! Seems like eons ago thinking about it now, and the years go by in the blink of an eye these days… 2013?! Where the eff did the time go??
Sean,
You’re definitely right! I had the DJ class license that you speak of. And yeah, no one cared about the restrictions back then. Funny how things can change so fast sometimes.
I loved my first car, a 1968 Ford Galaxie 500 fastback with a 390, but ironically it’s not the one I miss the most. That honor goes to my third vehicle, a 1992 Ford F-150 Custom that I bought in 1998 and had for 8 years, until it met it’s end before it’s time in early 2006.
It was barebones – the only options were a tow package and A/C. Think vinyl everything, 300 I-6, 5 speed manual, long box lovin. However, that truck had character. It carried me through a longer period than any other vehicle I’ve owned, and through more stuff than it should have. That big six and the dog legged rear always pulled through.. somehow.
In fact I’d still own it today, I’m absolutely positive, had it not been killed by a dually that pulled out in front of me. I tried to replace it with another ’92, that one a XLT shortbox with a warmed on 302. It just wasn’t the same as Fred.
My current truck after two years is growing on me, but I find myself missing rowing the three foot tall shifter through the gears and keeping the big six in the grunt range. I’ve considered throwing a COAL submission out there, but that one would take some time to do it justice.
Also, interestingly, I had a Taurus that was oddly optioned, after having a family grow beyond the capacity of the F-150.. so I had both from 2008 to 2010. It was a ’93 GL with cruise, air, the comfy bench seat, the Vulcan and.. a sunroof. I hated to like that car, I’ll admit, and drove it at it’s limit every time I got in it.
bdinger,
That IS a weirdly optioned Taurus. I’ve never heard of those.
It also had four wheel ABS (common today, rare in 1993), rear defog, the cool 16in alloy wheels, cruise, and the nifty “remote” controls for the stereo on the dash. Basically it was like someone was bound and determined to get a GL and not a LX or SHO, so they checked all the boxes for the GL.
That also was the second best snow car I’ve ever owned, right behind my current Dakota Quad Cab 4×4. I have no idea how, but that thing would go through anything and the ABS stopped it on a dime.
Come to think of it, I really liked that car. I still wonder if I should have kept it considering my investment in it was so little, and sale price was equally low.
I couldn’t help but notice the W-body Regal Limited in the background of one shot. I love those things, especially with the burgundy leather interior!
Interesting topic of the 10-year ownership. I’ve owned 3 cars for 10 years (or more), with all 3 concurrently for I think 4 years, while my sister drove my first car.
Wow a rustang something not seen here our 6monthly inspection system weeds the rusted cars out quite well you are allowed NO rust here and repairs must be certified
Very nicely told. Although I was quite unsentimental in my younger years, always trading for something different, I have since started keeping my cars for a long time. I have had three pulled from me prematurely – an 83 Colt sedan with the twin stick, a 96 Honda Odyssey and a 99 Town & Country. The first two got hit and totalled, and the third suffered catastrophic transmission failure. The Chrysler, at least, was given to a friend who put a tranny into it and is quite happy with it, so I get periodic visitation rights. 🙂
I so lament the loss of my very first car. Around ’89 or so I was a senior in high school & finally got my license. At the time my retired father was attempting to start up a used car lot in Alabama where he had recently moved (from Chicago). For some strange reason he bought klunkers at an Illinois dealer auto auction & drove them to Alabama figuring he could sell them there.
One of these cars was a rusty 66K light blue 1978 Firebird Esprit he got for $800. Both front fenders were dented and the rear quarters & parts of the floor were already rusted though & nobody in Alabama wanted it. It still had its beautiful light blue velour interior although there were two huge 6-inch holes cut into each door panel for speakers which I never filled.
The car was ordered with the 305-2 Chevrolet engine, Turbo 350 trans, A/C, Tinted glass, power windows, power locks, tilt, sport mirrors, rear defogger, & Rally II wheels. No gauges, clock or radio per the build sheet which I discovered hidden between the passenger seat foam & springs. This build sheet discovery initiated my build sheet obsession which I still feed today. I tore all our cars apart after retrieving the Firebird sheet & now I probably have thousands of them stashed away in filing cabinets.
I so loved that car despite the fact that it was spoilerless & the rear leaf springs were “over-arched” or something: the car sat rather high in the rear. I learned a lot about cars from taking it apart & putting it back together again. I was the northern kid (Yankee) at a southern high school and was avoided except for one kid named Shane who everyone else picked on. He befriended me & we hung out a lot. One day when I had the rear seat out of the car we both took a phillips screwdriver & carved our names into the still-soft seam sealer, being careful not to expose any metal. So many memories!
Another:
I still rode with my dad or had to follow him & we always stopped at this greasy spoon & ate dinner there. A rather cute girl named Barbie (LOL) worked there & I was smitten. I was very shy & never would have asked her out: admiring from a distance was good enough for me. However, my father the womanizer threatened to take my car away If I didn’t ask her out. He walked out to the car on “the last day of the ultimatum” & waited on me while I humiliated myself in front of Barbie.
So I did get to take her home but was just too dorky for her tastes, thank goodness. The important part was that I kept the Firebird. I worked for my dad at the time but never made enough money to pay for the car so there were always strings attached to it. If my grades suffered, the car got yanked, etc. I lost it occasionally & was miserable when it was gone.
I spent months scouring junkyards & finally found a rear spoiler I could afford. Each of the three pieces came from different yards as I couldn’t afford to buy a complete unit at once. So my left corner was silver, the middle was white, and the right corner was dark metallic blue. I never did paint the pieces but they lined up pretty well which was good enough for me.
Since my car was so much faster with the new wing, I saved up for dual exhaust. The muffler shop would not install it due to my catalytic converter but said if the car came in without a converter they would install it. So I sawed off my converter, leaving one open exhaust pipe right after the engine. The car was so incredibly loud & it sounded “bad”! I was going to the community college & would drive though there, winding it up in low gear and letting off….ba-pa-pa-ba-pa-ba-ba!! I enjoyed that a week before I got my duals & glasspacks.
My car looked rough on the outside but still ran and drove smooth. I eventually scored a factory tach cluster out of a Trans Am & installed it, burning out my fuel gauge sending unit in the process.
I drove it everywhere: all money I had went into the gas tank or my 2000K mile oil changes. So many stories with that car! I spun out at a major intersection trying to make a left turn while trying to impress a rather beautiful thing driving an ’81 Berlinetta one day which was definitely an ego killer.
A couple years later a Tempo pulled out in front of me and I decided I’d illegally pass it. Midway through my pass, I met an oncoming car and had nowhere to go but “left”. I left the road, slid a little sideways between a telephone pole & guide wire in front of a church going about 60mph. Somehow I got straight again but ran out of room there too & had to pull back onto the road, jumping a ditch in the process. It was an incredible experience as I had actually gone airborne twice and somehow managed to emerge unscathed AND pass the Tempo.
The weirdest part was that later that day, I ran into this rather popular girl who was playing pool with “the cooler guys” at the college. When I walked in, she said, “Hey Joel” I was surprised to even be acknowledged.
“Did you pass a white Ford Tempo this morning?”
Uh-oh! I said, “uh, umm, yeahh — oh no….were YOU driving it?”
She said, “no, but my parents were!”
I said, “tell them I am so sorry — that was stu–”
She cut me off, smiling & said, “no, don’t worry about it. They were really impressed with the way you handled your car without losing control of it”.
Wow: until I walked out of there, I instantly became the coolest guy in the room!
A few months later, I slid sideways while braking to avoid hitting a different girl I went to college with (I had a crush on her too) while avoiding hitting her red 4-cylinder, 4-speed ’82 Camaro, I ended up taking out a mailbox, some shrubbery, and some bark off a tree. I got a ride to my dad’s shop in her Camaro…tail between my legs.
The rusted rear quarter was now cutting into my tire & the owner of a local junkyard who befriended me (I was known as “Kid” — later becoming “King Kid”) spliced my brake line back together & peeled my rear quarter panel out like a flower, preventing further tire damage. I drove it for awhile but parked it in a barn on my dad’s property when I got my ’73 Bonneville.
Several months later some low-life broke in and smashed all the windows out of my car which sealed its fate. I located a rough ’77 Skybird body for $300 and had them both towed to my dad’s ex-car lot & then current scrapyard. It was my first engine swap and while I was on the backhoe lowering the engine into the “new” car, it rolled off its blocks pinning one of my older friends underneath it. He survived with broken ribs & never went to the hospital. He passed away several years ago & I’ll always wonder if the Firebird incident contributed.
So at the very end, I was transferring all the interior into the Skybird & ran across the Phillips-screwdriver inscriptions made by Shane & myself several years earlier. I hadn’t kept in touch with him & it made me cry.
Thanks for putting up with this too-long post. It was hard to stop writing about the most influential & loved vehicle in my life!
Wow, that was a great story, bringing it back around to Shane at the end was especially touching. My parent’s had a light blue 77′ Esprit when I was born, optioned identical to yours but with wheel covers instead of rallys. They sold it a couple years after I was born so I don’t remember it, but have many pictures and am told that I was obsessed with it.
Edward, I liked your story, but I’m confused about the picture of the wrecked wagon. The background looks similar to your neighborhood in the other pictures, was this one of your cars? The sable maybe?