Adventures in my Volkswagen Golf

My very first car was a dark blue 1986 Volkswagen Golf. My parents bought it from my aunt during my sophomore year in high school. While it was supposed to be my dad's commuting car, once I got my driver's license, I just sorta took it over. Having a car meant a lot of things to me. First it meant mobility. I lived out in the sticks. Prior to this car, my only mode of transportation was riding the bus, riding my bike, bumming rides off my parents, or walking. We lived seven miles out of town, so walking was out of the question. I tried riding my bike several times. The ride into town was all downhill. And the ride back home was a grueling uphil battle. I still have nightmares about it. Bumming rides worked for a while until my parents refused to take me to my final band concert of my freshman year which landed me a big fat F in that class. I soon realized, after tasting the freedom for several weeks, that Mom and Dad didn't like paying for my gas. I got a job. Having a job allowed to provide for myself. I could buy my own clothes, food, or whatever. I did't have to dip into my parent's hard earned money. With five kids, my parents were able to provide for our basic necessities and some clothes. I always felt guilt for taking their money. It just didn't seem right when I could pay for it myself. I learned a few valuable lessons in the VW Golf. First, I realized that it was not a good idea to repeated flash my headlights into incoming traffic when a drunk man, in his rage, flipped around on the highway and followed me home. Fortunately, my parents knew something was wrong when they saw me scramble into the house with said drunk person in tow. Second, I learned that I shouldn't let my friends shoot super soakers out my windows at other teenagers as they shouted, "Suckers!" My car was underpowered. Sometimes it only ran on three cylinders. A get-away car it was not. "Suckers" also sounds awfully familiar to another vulgar word from a distance when shouted at the top of a young man's lungs. After soaking and insulting said teenagers, they hopped in their cars, caught up to us, and attempted to box us in with their cars in an attempt to teach us a lesson. Somehow we escaped. They didn't have to beat us up to teach us a lesson, we figured it out on our own.