So it’s been a while now, but I haven’t yet written about it – Wifey and I got a new (used) car.  We’re still keeping the last one as a back-up – it still runs, albeit not as smoothly as it once did.  But the new car is nice – nothing fancy, a red Toyota Corolla.  I don’t have any pictures, and I don’t really think one is necessary – everyone knows what a Corolla looks like.  But she runs well, gets good mileage, and even has an after-factory mp3 player hook-up cable, which is a delicious little perk.

The Corolla was named Betty Boop by the Courster, since Betty Boop had bright red lips, and the car is red.  (sigh)  Whatever, the car needs a name, right?  Listen, it’s a fine name, so back off!

Betty Boop is, in all practicality, my fourth car, but technically it’s my sixth.  A brief history:

6. Betty Boop – 2007 Corolla
5. Unnamed 2007 Corolla we had for a week before we returned it to the dealership, thanks to a laundry list of issues.  Not fun times, but it ended with us getting Betty Boop, so all’s well that ends well
4. Lucky – 1999 Pontiac Grand Am.  I got this car after I graduated Cornell, and it took me on many important road trips; most notably it brought me and the Missus to and from our wedding.  Lucky’ll always hold a special place in my heart, and even though she creaks a bit more than she used to, she hasn’t ever caused me any major problems (knock on wood.)
3. A General Lee.  Yeah, like from the Dukes of Hazzard.  I didn’t technically “own” it, I actually just put a deposit on it, took it for a test drive, and suddenly realized how much I took power steering and brakes for granted.  Oh, it also had the doors welded shut and no gas tank.  Yeah, it would have been to buy that car, but *so* not practical.
2. Unnamed Mazda 626.  That car took Aaron and me on a cross-country adventure that I will remember for the rest of my life.  Then, once we were back in New York, the transmission died.  A year later, the engine went.  I curse that car to this day, mainly because when I got it, I decided I no longer needed…

1. The Falcon.  A brown 1984 Pontiac Firebird.  Behold:

This car was my baby, the love of my life.  I bought her for $850 from a sweet lady in Plainview who had 42 extra copies of the car’s keys.  Which was ironic, considering you actually didn’t need a key to start the car.  That was a pretty cool feature, but not as cool as the fact that I could control the windows from the center console.  Seriously, they need to bring that back in more cars – that was totally badass.  In the Falcon, the windows were always down, and “Stayin’ Alive” was always blasting from the radio.  (Why I’m not totally sure.)

Then there were the additions I made to the car.  There was the American flag hanging from the antenna – and keep in mind, this was 1997, when patriotism was totally uncool.  There was the lone fog light placed below the front license plate.  (Why I’m not totally sure.)

There was the Cornell sticker, flanked by two sexy lady silhouettes.  And of course, there was the “Jesus Loves You, Everyone Else Thinks You’re An Asshole” bumper sticker.  That one got me many compliments.

I looked ridiculous driving it, especially in a high school parking lot full of brand new BMW’s and Grand Cherokees bought for kids when they turned 17.  (Why I’m not totally sure.)  I paid for my car by myself, I paid to park it, I paid to put gas in it, and I paid to insure it.  So a 13 year old Firebird was all I could afford.  But I loved that car, and she loved me; in all the time I had her, she had one mechanical issue – her starter died, and it cost me $100 bucks to replace.  That was it.

So, Falcon, wherever you are, just know that I miss you, and though I’ve driven many cars since we said goodbye, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.

(Oh, and if you can’t surmise why I named the car The Falcon, for shame.  It was the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy!  A small Millennium Falcon adorned the dashboard.  And I wondered why girls in high school wouldn’t give me the time of day…)