Ode to the Tin Can

On My First Car

Picture the "A" Team's van only smaller in size, aluminum gray in color, and altogether less cool. That was my first vehicle: a 1980-something-or-ruther, Dodge Caravan which I affectionately christened with the name, "Tin Can" for two reasons. The first is obvious. She looked like a cola can on wheels. And the second reason came after I attempting to merge TC onto the freeway time and time again. With the pedal pressed firmly to the floor, my speed climbed from zero to a heart-stopping five miles-per-hour in more time than it takes grow a field of grass. I began shouting, "I think I can I think I can... " as I gripped the steering wheel, leaned forward, and pressed my full body weight behind the gas. This prayer soon became... "Think. Can. Think. Can..." as I accelerated ever so slowly to 25. Then, alas, it evolved into an exclamation of "Tin can! Tin can!"as I reached a very unstable speed of 45. God forbid I push pass 45 because then TC would shake and rattle uncontrollably which in turn would cause the passenger side window to slip into the door, the outside air to rush through like someone opened the hatch on an airplane, and the back panel to pop, lock, and drop it in ways MTV never thought possible. If I held the speed long enough, the pencils that I had supporting the cloth ceiling would begin to rain on my head one by one until they were no longer supportive and I became a driver lost in an avalanche of the cloth collapsing around my head. Which means that yes, I was one of those people on the road.

Ah..... those were the days: the "character building" days, as my dad puts it. The days where I would learn how to appreciate a car. Yes.... well... my current beauty, Mr. McDreamy, who is a 2004 BMW four-door three series.. appreciates that at the expense of TC, I learned:

1. Engines need oil.
2. Radiators need water.
   
3. Diesel is not a substitute for unleaded gas.
4. The interior light runs off the car battery and so does the car.
5. "Jumping" a car does not involve bouncing on the bumper or rocking out to music.
6. Tires can go bald and then pop loudly and violently.
7. No one should attempt to drive down a mountain on a spare.
8. An acceptable following distance should involve football fields and binoculars.
9. How to handle an accident (which was a skill that my Dad thought I was attempting to perfect)
   
10. How to flirt my way out of a ticket for driving erratically slow without my license on me.
    

Hey! Before you judge me, if you had a sea of roofing cloth caving around your seventeen-year-old head when your vehicle exceeded 45 mph you would be driving erratically slow also.

I eventually passed TC on to my younger brother who turned her into a practical joke that no one except him found funny. One of his modifications involved tweeking the windshield wipers to spray water on the next car's windshield at a stop light or at my face when I walked by. After mom insisted that he stop that, he converted TC into a toxic waste dump by replacing all the seats with trash, baseball gear and god-only-knows-whatever-else smelled like death. My mother and I discussed the placement of a radiation warning sticker on the bumper, but we were afraid of getting too close.

Finally TC went to rest in peace at the local junk yard when my brother bought his first car. It was a sad day watching her rattle off, but the poor gal had gone through enough torture in her final years. It was better that she be laid to rest in dignity then in the horrific way my brother was devising for demise. Ode to the Tin Can... R.I.P.


Other Car Adventure Topics:
Adventure in Traffic: Part I
Adventure in Traffic: Part II
Adventure in Traffic: Part III
Adventure in Traffice: Part IV
Beemer Can Off Road
Ode to the Tin Can
The Transport