Friday, 3 June 2011

Baby loves me, yes yes he does.

I didn't get my drivers license until I was thirty years old. Is that embarrassing? Probably. I lived in the inner city of Sydney for my whole twenties, so I didn't need it. I was busy.

Max was born up here in the Blue Mountains when I was 29. We were renting a house around the corner from the main street of Katoomba, so I still didn't really need one. After a while, an opportunity to own this beauty for the princely sum of $1000 arose. Dave and I saved and saved ... soon it was ours.

He had his ute, and I had my shitbox. We were a two-car family! All I had to do was learn how to drive. How strange is the feeling of getting used to drive a hunk of machinery around the earth? I'll never forget how repulsed I was at the power I felt behind the wheel. It seemed obscene.

A few years later, after many arguments discussions around getting married (Dave did NOT want to, I wanted to) ... Dave had this funny look on his face and asked me if I wanted to go "for a drive to the block, hon?" The block was where he was building our house. We went there a lot, to marvel at the fact that one day we would live there in a house that he built.

Max was getting minded. I waited at home for Dave to pick me up, he did in one of these:

A Mitsubishi Mirage. It was so luxurious! We drove to the block and he parked the car. A Neil Diamond song was on the radio, and Dave asked me to open the glovebox to pass him something. I opened it, to find a card addressed to me. Dave was laughing - he never did anything like this.

I opened it. He had bought one of those "Congratulations on your Engagement!" cards, and written in there the words:
"I hope you like your pressie hon. It's an engagement car! Will you marry me?"

It remains the most romantic, beautiful, extravagant thing he's ever done. I cried, he cried, and we smooched to the strains of Cherry Cherry.

I felt like the richest chick in town, driving around in that thing. A heater! No rips in the dashboard! Dave slowly cottoned on to the fact that if we were to get married (which we did eventually) ... I needed an engagement ring. He was spewing. "What? Why? Well do I get an engagement ring? I can't believe you get something else after I already got you an engagement car hon. Jeez."


I've had to write this Kidspot Top 5 post on the sly - Dave wanted me to write all about HIS first car, the one he got when he was seventeen. Remember these cars, in the early eighties?


What was your first car? Did you feel repulsed at learning how to drive or is that quirk just mine? And Ford haven't sent me the Territory yet ... do you think they're trying to back out?
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