I have to say I don't consider myself materialistic. I gave up on trying to be decked out in name brand clothing years ago. If I see a nice shirt for a decent price at Wal-mart, I'mma buy it, just as quick as I'd buy a name brand shirt for a decent price.
(Sidenote: this makes me think of how dumb I had to have been to stand out in the cold in line for hours, just to buy some Jordans.)
Anyways, one thing I have noticed that is quite essential to life is a nice car. But no, I'm not contradicting myself. You see, I've had the pleasure (or displeasure) of driving some of the most fucked up, raggedy-est vehicles. When you have an ex-mechanic as a Daddy, he will find u anything with four wheels as long as he can get it running.
I've also had the pleasure of driving nice cars and I've noticed one thing: People respond to you on the road based on what you drive.
My Daddy once had me and my sister driving a 1979 Toyota something; I don't remember what color it was because it was so rusted out. Gray maybe? I do remember how loud it was, and it was too old to have been manufactured during the days of power steering.
Parallel parking, what me and my sister affectionately nicknamed "The Putt," was like a damn part time job. When people would hear you coming in that, they'd look and laugh. But it aint make me no difference, I wasn't on the damn bus.
People on the road would also stare as if your car had no damn right to be on the road. I will never forget the stares of people that would pull up alongside me as if I was riding in a tin can on wheels. Though you probably could argue that's what "The Putt" really was.
When I had a '91 Toyota Camry, the disgusted looks stopped. But I still didn't get much respect. I was in a so-so car and the respect I got was so-so. People knew you were on the road, but didn't mind if they cut you off from time to time. Besides, who am I to complain in my '91 slow ass vehicle in the new millennium?
Then came Essie, a '95 green Ford Escort. Now, there was one difference between Essie and all the other cars, she was a stick shift. So I could rev her up, and peel out, and yes I would do this whenever people would give me that so-so look. Sure I upgraded 4 years, but I was still in a so-so vehicle. Plus, it was a hatchback, so that meant I lost some more points.
I just could not gain the respect of my fellow drivers. That is until my love, Vida came into my life. A 2001 all black Volkswagen; that was also a stick shift. Now, I could rev up Vida and she'd take off in a matter of minutes, leaving many of those on the road seeing only a black dot of cool.
I was cool in Vida. I was respected in Vida. No one could fuck with Vida.
And then just that quick, the legacy that had started out as Vida had been tarnished. A simple mishap caused the hood on Vida to fly up one day while driving and get crushed like a piece of black construction paper.
The hood now had to be tied down with rope, just to make it from point A to B. There would be no more peeling out in a matter of seconds.
Vida wasn't the same. Nor was she respected the same. Passer-bys would look at the black car with the crumbled hood; passing judgement on me, the driver. I obviously had to have been in some sort of accident that was clearly my fault. Any front end damage on car is the driver's fault.
So now other drivers pass me up, and whip by me as if I'm a mistake on the road.
No longer that black dot of cool, but a mistake with a crunched hood.
