As promised, the story of how I killed a car

In my post about my car’s premature death (it’s actually not dead…I have it back now) I promised I would tell you how I killed my first car. Here it goes.

My first car ever was a 1996 Ford Thunderbird. Like the one below, except purple (our family actually argued over whether it was purple, plum or wine colored. A consensus was never reached).

Megan's Meanderings TBird

I drove this car from the time I was 16 until I killed it when I was 17. We had a long run together. I pretty much only drove it to work (K-Mart, woot woot!) and softball. I lived too close to the school to drive (okay, I lived in the backyard).

I had two route options to get to softball practice: the two lane paved road that made you twist and turn around the farmland…or the gravel road that was a straight shot between my house and the field. Most of the time (except in the dark), I chose the gravel road.

The gravel road was scary and dangerous, and I’ll admit, I probably wasn’t the safest driver. But hey, I was 16.

One time as I was traveling along the gravel road on my way to practice, I hear a loud “clunk, chugga, chugga chugga.” (That’s my attempt at writing out the sounds my car made…do with it what you will.) I realized that probably wasn’t a good thing, so I pulled over.

I popped the hood (as if I would could spot what was wrong and fix it…ha) and got a face full of smoke. Yum.

I was about a mile away from the ball diamond, so I gathered all my gear and started walking. Luckily, my teammates were arriving at the same time as me. One teammate saw me by the side of the road, slowed down and waved with a big smile on her face. Awesome. The second teammate to drive by was nice enough to pick me up.

I don’t remember exactly what happened to the car, but I know it was dead. I accept fault, simply because I was driving (my dad and sister also blame it on me). My mom takes responsibility because she was overdue for getting it in for an oil change. Because this is my blog, on here, it’s my mom’s fault.

This incident and the run in with the pothole are the only two car “issues” I’ve had (besides small stuff like dead batteries). I’ve never been in an accident and never been pulled over. I’m ending this post abruptly, simply so I can go knock on wood.


3 thoughts on “As promised, the story of how I killed a car

  1. Mom says:

    Ah, memories. I still smile when I think of your friend waving at you then continuing on to practice : ) Just to clear up the color issue, it was purple.

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