My First Car

This essay one of many in my journal entitled MarcLife.

My first car was a 1972 Buick Skylark that was purchased by my mother in early 1973 with the advice of my brother-in-law Robert. They were with me in the car when I drove it away from the dealer in suburban Chicago. It was used but in like-new condition. I almost could not believe that I was driving what to me was a beautiful, metallic green car with its quiet, light beige interior and its great sounding stereo radio. It seemed to respond mystically and smoothly to every command that I gave it. But I kept my cool and I drove the car quite carefully on that rainy but exhilarating night. It was the start of a very, very special time in my life.

The car was meant to be transportation from my family's newly purchased house in the western suburbs back to the city itself where I had been going to school. The long, time consuming bus rides followed by elevated trains would finally cease. I was also the driver for errands that my mother (who didn't drive at that point) would need to run with my seven year old brother.

Before long I was driving the car around the Midwest. My adventures, alone or with my best friend Chuck, led me to Milwaukee, Benton Harbor and St. Louis. Several smaller trips occurred and there were good times. I had been introduced to the freedom of travel, of aiming four wheels in a direction and seeing totally new places. Towns, farms and forests would pass by and I was fascinated. I could think, listen to music and see to the horizon, and I fell in love with it.

And then terrible days visited my life. For a while, due to an enormous family explosion beyond the control of my mother, I was actually homeless and living in the car (see entry University of Illinois Chicago). That is no exaggeration. It involves a separate, incredible story in its own right, one that not many people outside of a few family members even know about and an event in my life that my current friends and co-workers would disbelieve. But it is true.

In a decision that predicted the future, I left Chicago and I drove alone all the way to New York City, stopping in Toledo (Ohio), Pittsburgh and Washington D.C. along the way. Then I arrived and saw the incredible island of Manhattan and other parts of New York for the first time. I was not even old enough to drink yet I wanted to relocate even then, in part due to problems back in Chicago and in part because of my attraction to New York. But I was not truly ready and moving to New York permanently was not to occur at that time.

I returned to Chicago and drove the car for a few more years while I encountered many more adventures and dealt with decisions about my life's direction. Eventually I gave it back to my mother and she drove it for a while before replacing it.

Those intense, youthful days were the beginning of my Road, with tremendous, long lasting impact. This was the car that played a major role in all of it.

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