by Frederick A. Babb

Created on: July 10, 2010

Grieving Your First Car

All events, experiences and ownership of importance which come first in your life are the ones that will always be cherished.  Like a race, the one who finishes first is always remembered while the rest of the people crossing the finish lines are quickly forgotten.

The first car one owns is no different.  It represents more than acquiring transportation.  The first car symbolizes the independents one so desperately seeks in life.  This is usually the reason why “first cars” are not always the top of the line models we tend to purchase once we have established a life, family and career.  First cars are usually one step away from their last days before going to the junk yard where maybe a few of their parts will continue to live on in other “first cars”.

My first car was just as memorable as other first in my life.  I remember it well.  A 1973 Ford Pinto I purchased in 1982 while stationed at Torrejon AB in Spain.  It was the classic poster child car of the 70s with its white vinyl roof and bright orange paint job which guaranteed not being able to lose track of it in any crowded public parking.  Famous then for it “fireball” and “cheaper to pay the survivors attitude of the Ford Motor company, Pintos were cheap to buy back then.  My Pinto had an AM radio and a $30 add on cassette player.  No Air Conditioning, no rear window defroster, no power steering, no thrills, no extras.  It was the perfect first car by any standards.

I had bought the car with a slight defect in the engine.  Cylinder 3 had a scar in it which caused lost compression.  For a gutless 2.3 liter four banger, this meant even less power for a rather heavy small car.  I was kicking around what I should do about the motor when my friend’s bad luck became my good fortune.  He had also purchased a Ford Pinto about the same time as I did and, one night coming back to the base with a little more than legally acceptable alcohol in the system, he wrecked his car.  Thankfully he was uninjured and so was the motor of the car.  It was a 2.0 liter, but it would fit in mine car.

One weekend at the shop we worked out of, we swapped out the motors and, given the lack of power the damaged 2.3 liter motor had, the newly installed 2.0 liter motor felt like a power house under the hood.  Finally, I was independent of the base and ready to go out and

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