Love At First Drive

There's something romantic about getting handed the keys to your first car. To a recently-licensed driver, that car is more than just a mode of transportation: It's freedom, independence, and a chance to do all sorts of things you probably shouldn't.

1966 Ford Fairlane advertisement

To be honest, I envy men who came of age in the '60s and '70s, who had the opportunity to pilot Fairlanes, Chevelles, Mustangs, and Chargers while their newly-printed drivers license was still warm to the touch. That's not to say I didn't appreciate my first car, but it definitely lost out on the "cool" factor compared to sleds of days goneby.

I remember the very day we started car shopping: My dad and I visited Matthews Ford in Newark, Ohio ("Nerk" to the locals) and walked through row after row of options. From the time I was 10 or 11 years old, I had a very decided idea as to what I wanted to drive. No, I didn't aspire to have a Mustang or Camaro, nor did I dream of an F-750 with a 12" lift (which would have blended in parked my alma mater high school). Instead, I had decided the perfect first car for me would be the Explorer Sport SUV.

 1996 Ford Explorer Sport

Now, I know what you're thinking: What teenage gearhead dreams of driving a soccer mom mobile? Don't forget, though, this is the Explorer Sport I'm talking about. This puppy had a shortened wheelbase, 2 doors, and bucket seats. My drumkit would easily fit in the back, and I'd still be able to haul around friends. I used the "snow safety" 4WD argument to persuade my father, but my dream came to an abrupt end not at the hand of my dad, but rather at the hand of the late '90s obsession with SUVs. As we walked through the lot, I quickly realized none of my beloved Explorers would fall anywhere near our decided pricerange.

"OK," I thought to myself, "time for a new gameplan." What did 15 year old Ross Musick want in a car? I wasn't concerned so much with speed, as the great state of Ohio had just passed measures cracking down on teenage automotive shenanigans. I wanted something that looked sharp, handled well, and had room for my 5 piece PREMiER drumkit (and a lady shotgun, of course). This shouldn't be too hard to find, right?

I remember the first time I saw it. It was a car that wasn't necessarily on my radar at the time, but seemed to meet all my newly established criteria. Dad looked at the sticker, pretended to choke (a schtick he pulled when he thought anything was expensive), and then decided he could probably talk this one down into our pricerange. A few hours of intense negotiations later, a handshake and a personal check (Note to self: This should have struck you as odd) sealed the deal. I was now the proud owner of a 1996 Ford Contour GL.

Odd choice for a teenager, right? I liked the "European" styling, the cockpit interior, and the generous trunk was able to carry all but the bass drum of my drumkit (the bass got buckled into the back seat). The spring loaded pop-up cupholders were a hit with my friends, as was the JVC El Kamelion headunit we promptly had installed.

I loved that car. She treated me well for several years until I was ready for something new. Even in the best relationships, sometimes you just want a change. I sold the car (on which I had racked up nearly 100,000 trouble-free miles) to my then sister in law, who drove it for several years after.

It may not have been a Fairlane, and it certainly wasn't a chick magnet, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

After all, there's just something romantic about your first car.