My first, last, my everything

2010-04-24 13:13

MY

first dream car was a Ford Escort XR3 and though

that might be a weird choice for a girl; what was more strange is that I was

only five years old at the time.

The

choice was definitely influenced by my father who was the biggest Ford fan to

roam the earth.

You

know the feeling of joy your very first set of

wheels brought? That car has memories you have probably told your children.

And

you probably remember the heartache when you had to say ­goodbye. Imagine the

immense ­disappointment that overwhelmed my father the day I brought home my

first car and it was not what he expected.

His

heart broke when he saw the neat 1989 model parked on the lawn outside our home.

It was not a Ford XR3 – it was a ­Volkswagen Jumbo Golf Mk2 1 800 GTS.

She

would later be named Lucy, as she is still fondly known today.

My

manager at the time decided he wanted to sell his car so he could go on a trip

to Thailand.

He

knew I was looking to buy a car so he mentioned he would either fix up his Golf

and sell it for R17 000 or I could take it as is for R10 000. I opted for the

latter because I knew I could fix her up for much less.

I

was 20 years old and convinced I didn’t know what real love was. That all

changed the day I drove her home.

I

was to keep her for the weekend and try to convince my dad she was a good buy. I

was hooked and my heart was set.

Men

came in and out of my life, but Lucy stayed. I was so protective I wouldn’t

allow anyone to touch her, let alone drive her.

Guys

back then did not take lightly to sitting shotgun while their girlfriend

insisted on driving her own car and theirs was parked at home.

She

was a looker and made heads turn when we drove down the streets.

I

fitted a free flow exhaust system matched with a massive tail piece that was so

big you could fit a 750ml beer bottle in it with some space to spare.

Everyone

in the neighbourhood and the car club scene knew Lucy because they could not

help falling for her neat looks, revving engine and the ­seductive growl of the

notes coming from her exhaust.

I

still have Lucy, nine years down the line and I love her more than ever.

I

have turned down numerous offers of purchase because selling Lucy would be like

selling my soul. She’ll be there for my children to drive one day. She is mine

forever.


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