“They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” ~Andy Warhol
I’m in my late thirties now, but I remember getting my first car like it was yesterday.
Even though I would have loved a shiny new car, my dad had suggested I go for a reliable junk box instead. Since I had been known to take out a few mailboxes and was somewhat of a menace on the road, I begrudgingly agreed.
Dad had a friend who worked on cars, and I proudly purchased my first clunker for $1000.
The catalyst for wanting my own set of wheels was the dreaded bus ride to my job. Day after day, I would stand at that overcrowded city bus stop in the cold, waiting for the bus to arrive like it was the second coming of Christ.
Unfortunately, when it did come, the 7,000 other commuters and I would pile in like a pack of sardines. Was that handsome guy putting the moves on me, or were we just packed in too close? I guess I’ll never know.
The only upside to the overcrowded bus was that the body heat kept us all warm.
I’d stand there, hanging on for dear life, praying that a nice old lady or a woman with a baby carriage didn’t need to board. Don’t get me wrong—I love the elderly, and babies too, but those were the kind of situation…