For some reason, I’m feeling all nostalgic today. Reading a post on reddit reminded me of the second car I totaled. Today I will write about my first. You never forget your first.
I have to setup the scene of how we ended up with my first car however, as that is a story in itself.
It’s summer 1995. We (my mother, stepfather and I) had just moved to Main Street in Ellettsville, IN from our home on the south side of Bloomington. Rent was $150 less a month there, the area had less questionable activities happening around us. My stepfather wanted to take a vacation to the Smoky Mountains, so we did. It was a good vacation. It was the only “family” vacation I really remember.
It was a good vacation, and we all had a good time. There are memories from that trip that I’ll hold with me the rest of my life. What happened when we arrived home however, was frightening but gave me another memory. One that I’m writing about right now.
Where we had moved to was right behind Jack’s Defeat Creek, a defining feature of the town. While we were gone there was a massive storm. The creek swelled to levels I didn’t see until I was in my mid 20’s. We lived in a duplex, our neighbors car had been flooded to the roof line. The water didn’t recede for 2 days. He had changed the fluids and done what he could to dry it out, but the insurance company totaled it out. He offered it to us, since I was getting close to the age to legally drive. The price? $383. My stepfather bought it without hesitation.
The car was to serve as a backup vehicle for him and my mother until I got my drivers license, then it would be my car. But I had to work for that car, it wasn’t handed to me. It was my job to turn this flooded out car into a running, fully operational vehicle that anyone would be proud of, and I was totally up to the task. So I got to work.
The electronics were ruined in it due to the water. All of the interior soft components were also water logged. The first step was to remove the entire interior. On good days, I would take all of the items outside to bake in the sun. This car had an electronic dash, something many newer vehicles have but at the time this car was built it was fancy and special. I was able to get it dried out and work again, but the radio was a goner. This radio was interesting however. Due to the design of the dash, it was in two pieces. There was a control section and a tuner section. After scouring the local junkyards, I was able to find one and it worked!
Next up was the mechanical. The 2.5L “Iron Duke” engine in it was very sloppy. There was oil and coolant leaks all over. Once I got those under control, I replaced almost every electronic component under the hood. I then changed the brakes, wheel bearings and shocks.
By this time, all of the soft interior components in the car had dried out. I cleaned them profusely and reinstalled them. The car was for all purposes, done. I still didn’t have a license however, bummer.
Summer turned into fall, and fall turned into winter, then winter turned into spring. My home life had changed significantly. The parents of the household were having arguments and serious conversations revolving me and my father. My stepfather at one point said “Maybe we should stop letting Lee see his dad.” That was all I needed to hear. I thought for the first time in my life, my mother had built something not based on alcohol and drugs but on a family. I was only living with my mother because my stepmother “said I couldn’t live there anymore” according to my father.
I would be leaving, the only question was how, when and where. By this time I spent a lot of time on the internet. I spoke to a lot of people, primarily in the Oklahoma City, OK area. I had been talking to a couple of girls around my age that lived in Valparaiso, IN and Round Rock, TX however.
I eventually made a plan. I was to go see and possibly live with this girl in Round Rock, TX. I had never even been to Texas before. Bye bye Indiana, you’ve left me nothing but trauma and abuse. One night, I packed a large duffel bag with clothes and things I would need. I waited until 4 or 5 in the morning, and army crawled into my mom & stepfathers bedroom and took all of her money and the keys to the car. She had just gotten paid, so it was around $400. I pushed the car out of the driveway (it’s a small car) and down the street a ways before I started it. And I was gone.
My first stop was at the Pilot truck stop in Terre Haute, IN. It was my “last chance Texaco” opportunity to turn around and be able to make it seem like nothing happened. I filled up the gas tank, and headed down I-70.
I’ve traveled to Oklahoma since I was a baby. I know the route to many places by heart. GPS wasn’t available to citizens yet, but I did have a map in the car. Due to the lack of sleep, and adrenaline pumping through my veins, memories of much of the trip were not saved in the hard drive in my head. Not until I made it to Topeka, KS. I had made a mistake, that I do remember, and I decided to just keep going.
By this time, I had been driving for a long time and needed a break, some rest. I had talked with someone in Topeka over the internet, and she gave me her number. I stopped at a mall and called her, she gave me her address and I was on my way. I was a teenager at the time, so nefarious things were obviously on my mind – but what I really needed was rest. I arrived, and didn’t know how to act or react. Their home was filled with clutter and trash, literally. There were trash bags everywhere! I gave an excuse that I had to put some transmission fluid in my car and that I’d be back, never to return.
That’s when I got my map out, and I started looking. I want to go somewhere to rest. I can’t rent a hotel room, and I can’t get comfortable enough in the car really. What do I do? Maybe I can drive to my aunt Beth’s house? She my youngest aunt, and has always been a little on the wild side. Maybe she’ll give me a place to stay for the night while I’m on my way? So I found US 75. Wow, pure heaven that road is. I need to take it again sometime. It’s like route 66. It lead me to Tulsa, which led me to my aunts apartment, in the tiny town of Westville, OK.
When I got to Westville, I stopped at a gas station and paged my best friend, with the phone number to the pay phone I was at. He never called back, so I proceeded to my aunts place.
I got there, but she wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t really know where my other two aunts lived at the time. My grandfather was in the area, but I didn’t know where he lived either. So I left a note on her door and sat in the parking lot, resting. After a while, she got home. I watched her read the note I left and go inside.
After a few minutes, I decided to knock on the door. Why was I so nervous? This is my aunt, a person who loves me. But I was rattled to my core. Did I make a wrong decision? She was on the phone with my dad. Gah, she ratted me out! My plan is ruined. He wanted to get me on a Greyhound and get me back to Indiana, and worry about the car later.
So she, I and her infant son Alex spent the evening catching up and I finally got some rest that I needed so badly. That was until the police department came knocking at her door in the middle of the night. She answered the door, and they asked for me. She woke me and I went to the door. In my mind, I figured the jig was up. They were going to arrest me. What they did still makes me wonder. They just asked for the keys and left when I gave them to them. It was years later when I found out what happened afterwards.
The rest of my time in Oklahoma during that occasion is something I would do again in a heartbeat however. I won’t go into detail about it in this post though.
My mom and stepfather apparently drove out and got the car while I was there, and left me. My mom then drove out again and got me. How she knew where my grandfather was living surprised me however. This was the straw that broke the camels back with the marriage of my mom and second stepfather. Shortly after my return, he moved out.
I finally get my drivers license, and I’m finally able to legally drive! Yes, we still have this car I stole and drove cross country without a license – and it’s MINE. I’m so excited.
Three days after receiving my drivers license. My best good friend Craig and I decide to go fishing at what’s called the Snake Pit, it’s the day after Thanksgiving. Being freshly licensed teenage males, we are driving aggressively and generally doing things we shouldn’t. That’s when I made a mistake, one I’ll never forget.
The road to the Snake Pit is gravel. It leads to a cove of the largest lake in Indiana, Lake Monroe. The road forks in one spot, with the left fork going in an upward direction. The right fork goes downwards towards the lake. Memories become hazy, but I swear the throttle became stuck. I was losing control and was panicking. I did my best to steer towards the left fork in the road, but the car went in the middle and flipped. In an unlikely turn of events I was actually wearing my seat belt that day, something I didn’t do back then.
I was hanging inside the car. My seat belt wouldn’t unbuckle. I had to get my pocket knife out and cut the seat belt to get out. It broke while doing so, swinging around and cutting my hand. I still carry a pocketknife to this day, just in case something like this happens again.
If you notice, I haven’t said much to describe the car up until now. This car was and is still a very rare car. Not an expensive or exotic one, just rare. It was the cousin of the Pontiac Grand Am. A 1987 Buick Somerset GS, Grey with a Grey vinyl top. Here are the only images I have of it. Taken from the lot it was towed to.
Not all memories fade. Price does not equate happiness. The smallest things can fill the largest part of your heart. My aunts and I still joke about this, and they know I’ll forever trust them with my heart.