My first car when I was a kid--18, newly licensed--was a beat up old junker of a Thunderbird that Mom sort of 'rented' from a family friend. They were in the process of fixing it up, and it was essentially drivable, though not exactly in the inspiring-confidence-in-dependability way. Every third day the car was parked back at the friend's house to be repaired, because I was kind enough to find yet another thing wrong with it. However, despite its sometimes erratic behavior, I enjoyed the freedom (every few days, anyway) of having my first set of wheels that didn't belong to my mom. This is a picture of what the car would have looked liked if it wasn't so beaten up and faded. The important part was that it was blue. Kind of made up for the fact that it mostly didn't run. Mostly.
My second car was a Mustang--used, of course, but much more reliable than the previous car. The first car kind of set the bar low, so pretty much anything was a step up. I was completely in love with this one. It was the first car I actually got to go shopping for and choose as mine; it got me through most of my college years. And yes, it was blue, too. That was at the top of my wish list.
This was my third car, and the last used one I had for many years. I was engaged at the time, and my soon-to-be husband decided I needed a more reliable, sensible car. He was a big fan of Hondas, so he sought out one for me within our budget. Once he found one he thought was suitable, he took the money I had been saving up for a car and made the purchase. He drove it to my work to surprise me. I hadn't even seen the car before I bought it! It was brown--one of my least favorite colors--but it was a very good car. Still, it never really replaced my beautiful blue Mustang in my heart.
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