Dancing in the Parking Lot, My First Car Story
March 7, 2012
My first car was an adorable blue-gray sedan. I fell in love, from the moment my Dad picked me up after school in this new (used) car and asked me, “Do you like it?” I mean, it was nothing super special, but I said “Yeah, sure, it’s good.” He said, “Well, I’m glad. Cause I bought it.” Commence sixteen-year-old shrieking, shock and happiness. My blue-gray baby and I went through a lot together in only three years, including traumatic fender benders, the requisite speeding tickets and driving hours every weekend to pursue what I loved.
One of my fondest and most romantic memories with my pretty blue-gray baby was with my first high school boyfriend. He did not go to my school, so I invited him to the Back to School dance at mine. We went, danced a little and I introduced him to all my friends, aka showed him off (let’s just say, he was not unattractive…) But of course I started coming down with some nasty cold/flu and could barely remain standing…so we left early. When we got out to my car and turned the key, the radio began playing the same slow song that we had been dancing to inside. I am pretty sure it was Creed circa 2000. So offhand I mention the “awesome” part in a current Beyonce song about dancing in a parking lot.
He gets out of the car and leaves the door open. No idea where he is going, I am left confused. He walks around to my side and opens the door. I stare at him bewildered, and a little hazy (I am rather sick). He takes my hand and helps me out of the car: Then leans in to reach the radio dial, turns up the volume and walks me to the back of my car and while basically holding me up, begins to slow dance. He even braved the germs enough to kiss me. One lone street lamp and not a soul in sight…better than any high school dance I have been to before or since. After the song ended, I pretty much collapsed in the front seat and let him drive my baby home. And although my head felt like a lead bowling ball and I remained curled up in the fetal position for the rest of the night…I wouldn’t trade it in. The night or the car.
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