When we hear remarks about the nostalgia of car ownership, we immediately think of drive-in movies and convertibles and many other scenes from old movies that we have knowledge of, but are too young to have experienced.  The truth is, every one of us can identify with all of the “firsts” in our lives that involved our cars, perhaps only because so much of our lives are lived inside our cars. 

There is our first car – the beat up piece of junk that was our pride and joy and our single largest embarrassment in high school.  We hated our parents for not buying us one of the new cars that it seems every other kid had, but we were never short on teenage passengers asking for a ride or just wanting to hang with the kid who has a car.

There is our first argument in the car – you know, the one where one of you gets out and starts walking – the ultimate power trip – while the other drives 4 miles an hour with the passenger’s side window rolled down, begging the other to “just get back in the car”.

There is our first new car – the smell of it, the torture of our first exposure to car dealerships and financing and credit reports and car payments.  The blissful knowledge that this is ours.  The burning desire to have a new car to drive around in, and the defensive urge to park as far from everyone else as possible at the mall, so you may need to take a cab to get to the entrance.

There is our first time driving to work in the new car – you purposely stop for coffee on the way, having to pay be credit card because you’re now short on cash, but there is just something so cool about putting a styrofoam cup with a lid into the cupholder – of course it was still scalding hot when you got to work, so you never got to drink it, but the effect was the same.  And you were convinced that everyone at work noticed that you pulled up in a brand new car.

There is the first time we drove our baby home – it took a half hour to figure out how to install the infant seat, and then we white-knuckled all the way home, convinced that every other driver on the road is an idiot.

There is the first family vacation in the car – filled with ‘are we there yets’, and ‘don’t make me pull overs’ and watching the kids in the rear-view mirror more than watching the road.

There is the first time our teenager drives away in our car – the fear, the pride, but mostly the fear.  And there is the resolution that we need to buy a beat up piece of junk for that teenager to drive.  And the cycle begins again.