Car With a C

My father owned a maroon 1981 Pontiac Bonneville that was used as one of his company cars, complete with 8-track player, whip antenna and the first car phone anyone had ever seen. I am so much like my dad in that regard, the Tager men love gadgets. Not only did he have the white cell phone hardwired into the Bonneville, he also carried one of those huge bag phones. There was nothing cooler for a teenaged boy than to call a girl from a phone in the car and I was sure flying cars were just around the corner. Dad and mom decided that “The Boat”, what my friends and I later nicknamed named her, would be my first car. It was the perfect first car. It was old enough that maintenance was cheap but new enough to have power locks and windows and its best feature, it was big. Really big. As in, I could fit half of the school in the back seat.

But alas, the Bonneville died a valiant death. Poof went the engine. It needed oil?

Mom and MF The Salesman (ex-step father #4) had hinted that I was getting a new car for my 18th birthday. I was attempting to convince them that a Suzuki Samarai was perfect for a teen that enjoyed life on the beach but it was just my luck that in 1986 these type of stories were popping up all over the news. My mom mentioned a BMW they had seen that was too expensive but they had found a small Nissan truck that was in really good running condition, it just need a fresh coat of paint. I chose blue.

It was a sunny Boca Raton summer day on July 31st 1986 and I had just come home from school. School in July? Yes, summer school was as much a ritual for my vacation as was going to visit my dad. It was a habit to check the underground parking garage of our building to see if Mom was home. Things were pretty good financially at that point for our family and she was more apt to stay home and enjoy the life of a condo on the beach in Boca then go to the office. As I peered around the corner in the garage, there was a car in her assigned spot but it wasn’t hers. In Boca, parking in someone’s assigned spot is akin to the most heinous of crimes. I walked over to see if I recognized the vehicle but it was unfamiliar. In fact, I don’t think I had ever seen this type of car before. It was a 1976 2002 BMW and it smelled of fresh blue paint. That’s when I realized I had just accidentally stumbled on to my birthday present. I spent the next half hour examining every detail of the car. I opened up the trunk and smelled the new carpet then cracked open the doors and practiced turning the steering wheel while adjusting the radio’s volume. It had a cassette player and a stick shift! I learned later that it also had a car alarm, the first on my block with such a strange device that chirped when set.

Four Times When Turned On: chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp and Twice When Turned Off: chirp-chirp.

1976 BMW "2002"

Mom had driven to work with MF The Salesman that day as her car was being detailed. After dinner, Mom mentioned that her car had been parked in front of the building in the guest parking by the detailer. She asked if I would move her car into her spot in the garage and I knew that she was setting me up to discover my present. It was tough to contain the excitement in my body but I had a plan. An evil plan. I was sure to take my time, knowing that my mom figured I would find the car and then run right back upstairs jumping for joy. Instead, as I returned and entered the front door of the condo, I acted as if I was completely miffed.

“Mom”, I said  “you’re not going to believe this. Someone was parked in your spot. So, I went to Bernie at the security desk and he is having the car towed right now.”

I’ll never, ever, ever, ever forget the words she uttered back at me, “asshole, that’s your birthday present!”

Gotcha Mom!

K~