He was called Bob because he was my first car, Bob was a used car and Bob was the name of the first married man that hit on me and would eventually kiss me in the mall that we worked at way back in 1994. So you see - they were both used! Ha!
Can you believe 1994 was way back when? Oh and that whole married guy part... but eh, what can I say - if they were married or otherwise attached they somehow found me... again another story and another time...
Back to my awesome escort!
I drove that little red escort everywhere! It was my first taste of freedom and I bought it in July 1994 when I was nineteen. The dealership I bought the car at was having a Fourth of July sale. Hot dogs, balloons and a big sale. My mom took me and while we waited on the salesman we sat down to eat our hot dogs.
I had started dating some guy, that no one approved of and for whatever reason my mom decided this was the perfect time to ask me about him. Specifically, if he, um, took my womanhood, as they say. I was just about to take a bite from my hot dog when she asked but without missing a bite I said, no and it was so and so and continued to eat that hot dog. The look on her face was worth the cost of that car.
Oh, the memories...
Did I mention that I loved that car! It took me all over the city and beyond... The furthest was to NOLA for Mardi Gras. I had gone with my best friends.
Despite all the places that car took me, it took a beating! In no particular order, it had the front door crushed when a boyfriend did my brakes and forgot to pump them before testing them - never mind closing the door, it was rear ended and sideswiped a couple of times (none of which was my fault) and the driver's side glass shattered one cold, cold morning. I replaced all the tires twice and not because of wear and tear.
That car was also broken into one night when I was waiting tables at the Improv. They smashed the passenger side window. It was also the only time the homeless man I used to tip to keep an eye on it, took the night off... all they got was an old tapestry bag that was empty, meanwhile my camera bag was in the backseat along with new plates and cash in the visor.
My car finally died one night in an accident. It was the first snowfall of the winter and I was driving to Arabica for tea after fighting with some guy I was dating. I never saw the woman coming. She hit me so hard the frame broke on my car. All she had was a broken headlight. The policeman on the scene declared neither of us at fault - that's why they are called accidents, he said. The insurance company said it was my fault. I think the cop was so nice because the woman driving was so nasty. It was also four days after my birthday... He was cute and married. He asked me out. I said no...
I did not buy a car again for a few years.
I often think of the sassy, little red escort... But not Bob, the married guy in the mall. BTW - nothing ever happened.