In about 1991, my parents decided that they needed another car. This car would basically be my
dad's work car. After a few months of deliberation and searching, my parents bought a cheerful
looking blue hatchback from a used car dealer. My dad drove this car to work, and eventually
taught me how to drive a stick shift in it. (Poor car.)
After a few years, my sister also got her driver's license, and my parents saw the need for yet
another car. My dad liked the little blue car so much, he went out and bought another one, also
blue. So we had two identical cars, except that the new car was a 1988. Hence the cars were
dubbed "New Blue" and "Old Blue."
Eventually, the little blue car became the "kids' car, although my parents had priority on use.
My sister and I drove the car here and there, being... well, high school kids. I started college and
started using the car to get to work and back. My sister also used the car to drive to school.
About a year after I started college, my sister was driving the little blue car and was in an
accident near the high school, and Ol' Blue was hurt. I never did see the damage, but in about a
month and a half Ol' Blue was back in the driveway with a new plastic grill and a wavy hood.
(My parents "weren't terribly interested in aesthetics," they just wanted the car running again.)
Then, I moved out on my own. The apartment I moved into was close enough to campus that I
didn't have to drive (in fact, it was right next to campus). Besides, I could always rely on the
Campus Bus Service to give me a lift wherever I needed to go. I lived
happily without a car for almost six months. Then it got cold. I got miserable. When suddenly,
out of the blue, my parents decided to give me Ol' Blue. (Something to do with their insurance
or something.) I was ecstatic. I finally had a car: My first car.