No, this ain't about no Star Wars, but it is about my new used 1987 Ford Escort station wagon which my sister aptly named The Death Star.
When I was a kid, I told myself over and over again "I am NEVER going to drive or own a station wagon. Ever!" I thought they were sooooo uncool. I was gonna grow up and get me a Dukes of Hazzard car or something awesome like that.
I'd like to go back in time and tell young me: "Hey, guess what, Me! You're going to have not one, but TWO station wagons when you grow up! And one of them is even going to have wood paneling!" I can only imagine the look of terror on Young Me's face upon hearing the news that one day I would only be driving cars with windows on the trunks. That would be a priceless expression indeed, not to mention the extra shock on Young Me's face when Older Me busted out a digital camera to take a picture of said priceless expression.
Contrary to my thoughts of them as a kid, I can't see myself driving anything non-station wagon for quite some time now... reason being I freakin' love driving station wagons. Being a musician, there's nothing better to lug your gear around in. Not to mention, old station wagons are so lame that they're actually kind of cool.
So YEP - I now own two station wagons. Why? I am sad to report that the Pinto is out of commission until I can get a job and affode to have clutch surgery performed on it. So technically, I was without a ride. Knowing this, my ever-so-generous Grandma who recently bought a sexy new Electric Lime-colored Saturn decided she didn't need two cars. She suggested I adopt her black 87 Escort to which I gladly obliged, because the only thing better than a new used car is a new used car that you know was properly taken care of.
When I was a kid, I told myself over and over again "I am NEVER going to drive or own a station wagon. Ever!" I thought they were sooooo uncool. I was gonna grow up and get me a Dukes of Hazzard car or something awesome like that.
I'd like to go back in time and tell young me: "Hey, guess what, Me! You're going to have not one, but TWO station wagons when you grow up! And one of them is even going to have wood paneling!" I can only imagine the look of terror on Young Me's face upon hearing the news that one day I would only be driving cars with windows on the trunks. That would be a priceless expression indeed, not to mention the extra shock on Young Me's face when Older Me busted out a digital camera to take a picture of said priceless expression.
Contrary to my thoughts of them as a kid, I can't see myself driving anything non-station wagon for quite some time now... reason being I freakin' love driving station wagons. Being a musician, there's nothing better to lug your gear around in. Not to mention, old station wagons are so lame that they're actually kind of cool.
So YEP - I now own two station wagons. Why? I am sad to report that the Pinto is out of commission until I can get a job and affode to have clutch surgery performed on it. So technically, I was without a ride. Knowing this, my ever-so-generous Grandma who recently bought a sexy new Electric Lime-colored Saturn decided she didn't need two cars. She suggested I adopt her black 87 Escort to which I gladly obliged, because the only thing better than a new used car is a new used car that you know was properly taken care of.
If you do a little A/B comparison, you will see the two vehicles which I now have ownership over bear uncanny similarities towards one another:
74 Pinto:
- 45,000 miles
- Ford station wagon
- Near mint condition
- Bought/driven by grandparent
- 60,000 miles
- Ford station wagon
- Near mint condition
- Bought/driven by grandparent
Sheesh, if a person didn't know any better, one would think these two former wagon drivers were married at one time. Grandma's mileage was a bit higher as you may have noticed, but my Grandpa had approximately 20 vehicles at any given time and drove as much as a fish swims in water... otherwise the Pinto's odometer would be at about 4,987,299,923.8 miles at this point.
My poor Grandma had to endure 2 hours of "bonding" with me at the St. Paul Midway DMV. It's not the hanging out with me part that I feel sympathy towards her for - it was the atmosphere and company we were stuck in to transfer the title. If you've never been, the only thing missing from that DMV is a check cashing/buy-your-phonecards-here booth and a Laundromat with small children running around in their underwear. Maybe a liquor store, too. And a back room with cockfights (yeah, ha ha, I said "cockfights").
It's surprising that they haven't installed inch thick bulletproof glass at the DMV counter yet - if I didn't know any better, I could have sworn we were in the State penitentiary hanging out with axe murderers, drug dealers, and people who ripped tags off of mattresses. A great deal of our time was spent listening to Gangsta Bitch Barbie in line with her 3 kids yelling at her boyfriend via cell phone and using the word FUCK as if she was reading what she was saying from a piece of paper but replacing the spaces in between each word with the word FUCK. Um.. yeah, sorry about that, Grams.
But yeah, the Death Star is a sweet-ass ride. Grandma took immaculate care of it - although it is nearly two decades old, it's practically showroom floor-new. Its shoulder seat belts are robotic and drag themselves across your shoulder when you get in. This is a very handy feature for people like me who are rather forgetful in regards to putting on a seat belt (sorry you had to read that, Mom). Thinking of the hundreds of dollars that will potentially save me in DWSB tickets (Driving Without Seat Belt), this car is worth its weight in gold.
It also has cruise control and tilt steering. There's nothing quite like opening that hog up on I94 at 65mph and not having to have my foot on the gas pedal.
One thing it doesn't have yet is a radio. But that's okay, 'cause when I have that cruise control locked in, I'm able to reach in the back seat, grab my guitar, and practice for a little while. It was hard learning to steer with my knees while playing guitar at first, but I pretty much have it down pat now.
So thanks a lot, Grandma! I still don't have a stinkin' job but thanks to you when I get one, I'll be able to get there in a dependable vehicle. And I'll take very good care of it for you.
In the mean time, I'll just keep hittin' that Interstate and keeping my guitar chops up to snuff.
It's surprising that they haven't installed inch thick bulletproof glass at the DMV counter yet - if I didn't know any better, I could have sworn we were in the State penitentiary hanging out with axe murderers, drug dealers, and people who ripped tags off of mattresses. A great deal of our time was spent listening to Gangsta Bitch Barbie in line with her 3 kids yelling at her boyfriend via cell phone and using the word FUCK as if she was reading what she was saying from a piece of paper but replacing the spaces in between each word with the word FUCK. Um.. yeah, sorry about that, Grams.
But yeah, the Death Star is a sweet-ass ride. Grandma took immaculate care of it - although it is nearly two decades old, it's practically showroom floor-new. Its shoulder seat belts are robotic and drag themselves across your shoulder when you get in. This is a very handy feature for people like me who are rather forgetful in regards to putting on a seat belt (sorry you had to read that, Mom). Thinking of the hundreds of dollars that will potentially save me in DWSB tickets (Driving Without Seat Belt), this car is worth its weight in gold.
It also has cruise control and tilt steering. There's nothing quite like opening that hog up on I94 at 65mph and not having to have my foot on the gas pedal.
One thing it doesn't have yet is a radio. But that's okay, 'cause when I have that cruise control locked in, I'm able to reach in the back seat, grab my guitar, and practice for a little while. It was hard learning to steer with my knees while playing guitar at first, but I pretty much have it down pat now.
So thanks a lot, Grandma! I still don't have a stinkin' job but thanks to you when I get one, I'll be able to get there in a dependable vehicle. And I'll take very good care of it for you.
In the mean time, I'll just keep hittin' that Interstate and keeping my guitar chops up to snuff.
