It was the late 1980s. I had graduated high school and more importantly(at least to me at the time) passed my road test. I was a bonafide licensed driver. As luck would have it, my mother was looking to unload give me her car since she was in the market for a new vehicle. She sold it to me for a mere $200. At the time I thought I made the deal of the century. The car’s book value was higher and the mileage was relatively low. The vehicle, a 1980 burgundy Plymouth Volare, lacked sex appeal, but she was mine and as they say, love is blind. Little did I know in the not too distant future, she’d break my heart.
My #FirstCarMoment starring a Car, a Rainstorm, and a Wake Up Call