By Alex Hammond - 2003
My brand new SUV. When most people think about SUV's they probably
imagine a big shiny new
Expedition or 4Runner. But when I think of SUV,
I think of my not so shiny sport utility van. That is my father's silly attempt
at a positive connotation for the minivan. I later grew to loath that term. That's right, I
drove a minivan as my first car my junior year of high school. This is a story of the emotional
damage of my first car and how I managed to overcome it and actually become a better
person. My junior year is the kind of year that would drive any kid into developing a great
relationship with their counselor and I don't mean schedule changes.
Imagine a suburban school where the student parking lot
looks more like Bill Gates's private collection compared to the teacher parking
lot. These kids drive cars that can make any working adult jealous and to tell you the
truth, I haven't seen too many teachers hanging around the student parking lot. Now imagine
a 1993 green Dodge Caravan Sport. To be honest I really would like to know what
“sport” they had in mind when Dodge named that car because it doesn't look sporty to
me and I don't play badminton. It had a stylish crack in the window
complementing the futuristic box approach that was only a mere shell to the luxuries within.
The words“ no a/c” is worth thousands of degrees I mean, words. This particular van was
also complemented with the sweet sound of squeaky brakes that could be heard for a
two-mile radius. Please try not to drool on my essay I worked hard on it.
But I have to say it; this car is a masterpiece of degradation.
It is a true spawn of evil, cursing each occupier with relentless shame and headaches.
To shed some light on the situation, it originally came with tinted windows. Tinted
windows would have been a blessing, but remember this car is a curse. The tint was
peeling and eventually stripped prior to my ownership. Oh yeah, you’re going to
love this one; it had an alarm! I can swear that I could take this “SUV” or
opportunity cost, as some junkyards would call it, to the most criminally infested
area in the world, and I could just leave it there overnight. On top of that, I
could leave the keys in the ignition with all the doors wide open with the title
taped onto the window next to a note that says “please steal me” and that curse
would still be there in the morning, waiting to infect me or it's next victim with its' venomous reputation killing disease.
Which
brings me to my most embarrassing moment. Of course, the alarm has to fail at the
worst time possible, keeping in the spirit of the curse. Now I have to open the car in the
middle of the school parking lot and manually disarm the alarm, which goes off as soon as
I open the door. Which is exactly what I least wanted, to attract attention to myself.
So of course, everyone looks and sees me trying to turn off my alarm as I'm ducking trying not
to be seen breaking into my own car. Much worse, that car out of all the cars in the parking
lot, I had to be breaking into that atrocity. At this point the kid who rides his sisters’
bike to school has more dignity than I do. Oh yeah, and you know how the common myth of high
school is that riding the bus is the most undesirable way of getting to school. Oh, how
I envied those lucky kids on the bus at that moment.
Driving that monstrosity to school can only compare to one of
those low points in one's life where there is nowhere to go but up. Which leads
me to part of the story where I succeed and overcome this evil force clinging to my back, holding
me down and cramping my style. The only way out is to get rid of it and that I did.
I can recall many a time where I left the doors unlocked praying for some angel of peace and
resolution (car thief) to steal my car, but no such luck. But during the summer after my junior
year I took the initiative and sold my car for $660 more than what I had originally calculated
its' total worth. This came out to be a total of $-10 dollars, thus ending the evil
curse and relieving the young prince of the dreaded humiliation off of his shoulders. But only
getting that eye sore out of my sight is not the way to success. Coming to terms and really
being grateful for what I have is the real achievement. Being in that humble position is
something that will always constantly remind me to be grateful and not to worry so much
about image, which is sort of all you have in high school as sad as it sounds. That is how
I overcame my junior year of high school. I learned some important lifelong character lessons;
thus, improving my overall quality of life and taking one more significant stride
towards self-actualization.
"Everything that happens, happens for a reason” someone
once said. Through all the embarrassment and all the indignity the whole experience
was worthwhile. One could even go, as far as to say, it was a blessing in disguise. Whatever
you call it, it must have something to do with heredity, because my fathers' first car
was a station wagon. Now as fate would have it; I am only continuing the family tradition.
So someday I can only hope to tell my son when he gets his first car, about the important
lesson I learned while driving my very first car, an SUV.
