Every car has a story.
That statement can mean a few different things. For me, it means there's one particular event or one memorable moment I always think of when I remember a certain car I've had.
This blue 1985 Dodge Ram Pickup was my first vehicle. We bought it when I was a little kid. I still remember waiting at the dealership while they cleaned it before we took it home. When I turned 16, I claimed it as my own. My dad would probably remember it differently. I certainly never paid a dime for it. This truck's story: I was driving down the freeway at 65 miles per hour, Erin by my side when...BOOM!!!...there was a loud bang, the truck slowed down, and it puttered to a stop in a parking lot off the freeway. As it turns out, engines need oil to function properly. There wasn't a drop of oil in it. I suppose I should have checked the oil but in my defense, an oil light never came on. 
My next vehicle was a red 1997 Ford F-150. It was the first car (and one of only 2) I ever actually purchased. I picked it out. I made payments on it. I liked it for the most part. I took it with me my first summer in Glacier National Park. This truck's story: Glacier is where it died. Sadly, the above picture is the only photographic record I have of this truck. It was taken at a car dealership in Cut Bank, Montana. It was towed there after my friend wrecked it in a not-s0-uncommon August Glacier snowstorm. Totaled. I got enough insurance money to pay it off...with a little extra.
That happened in the middle of my first summer. Mom & Dad were good enough to deliver the above Ford Explorer to me personally. I used it for the rest of that summer. I went to Winter Park, Colorado without a car for the winter. I came home early and used the Explorer for the next few months. Out of all my cars this is the only one that I never felt belonged to me. Thus, there isn't a particular story that goes along with it. The thing I remember most about it is driving up and down Parleys Canyon every day when I worked for a few months in Park City.
For some reason I got a little adventurous with my next mode of transportation. One day I thought, "I should buy a motorcycle." So I did. I found this 1991 Honda Nighthawk on ebay. It would be my "car" for my 2nd summer in Glacier. That's Audrey and Mark sitting on it in the above picture. It was a weak little machine. My friends called it "The Piglet." I think the engine was only 25o cc's. But I loved it. Mom was terrified of me driving this thing 700 miles to Glacier. I thought it would be no big deal. That's where this bike's story comes in: 700 miles is an awful long way to go for someone who's never been on a motorcycle before. I was unprepared. I didn't have the right clothes. I was freezing the entire way. I pulled into Missoula one afternoon hypothermic. I'm serious too. I was actually suffering from hypothermia. But I made it and let me tell you...there is nothing quite like driving a motorcycle across Going-to-the-Sun Road. That made it all worth it.
I came home from Glacier and promptly sold The Piglet. I needed the money for my next adventure in New Zealand. I decided early on that I wanted to buy a car while I was down there. Ease of mobility is important to me. So after saving money from a few paychecks at the hotel where I worked, I rode a bus into Christchurch on a wing and a prayer. I banked on the fact I would find a cheap car at a car auction. I bought the above Nissan Bluebird (same thing as a Sentra) for NZ$1,300. It had the ugliest purplish/brown interior but it treated me well and it allowed me to explore the country. (It has the added distinction of being the only "right side drive" car I've ever, or probably will ever, own). The only problem I ever had was with one tire. I had to have it replaced. This car's story: Selling it was painful. I waited until my very last day in the country to go to a car auction and try to sell it. I wanted NZ$1,300 for it. But I was selling at a time when thousands of other travelers were leaving the country too. The market was flooded. For three hours I kept scratching out the price on the window and lowering it until someone would actually stop and look at it. The final selling price...NZ$600. Not what I had wanted.When I got home from New Zealand, I was broke. But I was headed up to Glacier for a 3rd summer and I needed a car. By some miracle a guy who works with my parents was giving one away...for free. It was (I believe) a 1988 Toyota Corolla. He wasn't sure it would make it to Montana but what choice did I have but to try driving it there. Sadly, I have no photographic record of this car. It was pretty beat up. You could take the key out of the ignition while it was still running. That was a neat party trick. But I guess it's true what they say...Toyotas run forever. This little car did me well. It's story: I lost the key to it. I tried to sneak into an outdoor concert just outside Babb, Montana. While climbing over a fence my keys somehow disappeared. It was really baffling. I searched for hours. (My dad even traveled up to Glacier with a metal detector to see if we could find them). They were never located. I had to have the car towed back to Many Glacier Hotel and my parents mailed me an extra key.
I came home from my 3rd summer in Glacier and the above car was waiting for me. My mom's 1996 Toyota Camry. She had just gotten a new Camry and I inherited this one. I was happy about it too. It seemed like a reliable, decent car that could last me a while. It did. It was with me for my winter in Big Sky. It was with me for my 4th and final summer in Glacier. It was with me for my two years in Bozeman. It was with me for my first year in Boise. I think of two stories that go along with this car. First, I drove it to the bar one night in Glacier and was a little too drunk to drive it home. My friend Katie (such a reliable DD) drove instead. On the way home I drunkenly said to her, "Do you know how to drive a Camry? Because this is a very special car." We still laugh about that. But the biggest story here: my trusty little Camry loved to burn oil. I first noticed a blue smoke cloud emerge from the exhaust in the early winter of 2005. From that moment on I had to keep a careful eye on the oil. I had learned my mistake with my blue pickup. I kept adding oil to it over the next 4 years. I added a lot of oil. My friend Beth said to me once, "You're the only person I know who buys oil in bulk." It made me laugh.
I had planned to run that Camry into the ground. Why spend money on a new car if the old one works? I got it registered in Idaho in December. Then I learned it had to pass an emissions test in February. I was nervous but I took it in anyway for the test. That poor little car studied as hard as she could...but in the end she failed. Months earlier a mechanic had told me, "I don't recommend you put any more money into this car." So I didn't. The last time I saw her was when I took the above photo. She treated me well (not to mention my mom) but it was time to move on.
And move on I did. I'm nearly 29 years old and I've finally purchased my own brand new vehicle...a Jeep Liberty Sport.
Pretty isn't it? I got a screamin' deal too. 
