and whilst going through the comments I saw this comment...
Link to comment
Paula was a fettered housewife.
Paula opened the garage door. The smell of old fuel, and dried grass on a lawnmower was thick in the air. “Come on, we’re going to be LATE!”, she yelled at her youngest. Soccer cleats clopped on the concrete. “Mom, you don’t have to yell at us all the time!”, her 10 year old daughter responded as she joined her siblings in the back of the blue Uplander. They were always late, ALWAYS. Every activity carried with it the prerequisites of being a stressfull, loud, unmitigated disaster.
It wasn’t always this way. Paula glanced at the minivan’s garage companion as she backed out. The Z was a relic of, not happier times, but a time where she once had freedom and exuberance.
After a few hours of disappointing soccer, and one $200 grocery bill later, the clan returned to the house. Requests to keep the 2 liter bottle of Dr.Pepper in the bag fell on deaf ears, and there had been the inevitable release of it’s syrupy contents throughout the cabin. She sighed as she got out, and leaned on the Z’s door as she watched her smartphone-equipped children disappear inside, leaving mom to tend to the groceries. All was now quiet as it should be, for this place was a tomb. She stared at the forlorn sports car. It lay there, hobbled by a decade old flat and boxes of Christmas decor piled on the roof.
She recalled how alive she felt the last time she drove this car 15 years ago. The L24 belted out a harmonious throaty note as she sped to a brunch date with her girlfriends. Friends who had fallen to the wayside long ago. Though it’s automatic transmission didn’t allow the 240 to be as dynamic as it could be, she didn’t know that. To her, the Z was crisp and handled spritely, compared to the LeSabre wagon they had at the time. Afterwards, the car sat for a bit too long, and the battery had shed it’s last electron. Attempts at a recharge failed. Replacing the battery in situ was something slightly out of her and her husband’s mechanical ability, as well as time constraints.
This was Paula’s relic. While some people hang on to a toy from their childhood, she had this Z to remember her past life as a wild party girl. There were concerts. There were all-nighters at the techno club. There were MEN, with the customary “walk of shame” in the morning to the brown Z. This car knew things about her that she would never speak to her husband about. The least of these things being the previous owner of the car. Todd was an ex that she still though fondly about. A mustacheod personification of testosterone. She suddenly realized she had been reminiscing so long, that the ice cream was probably melted in the back of the van, and the gallons of milk were as sweaty as Todd was that one time…
Paula and her husband Burt plotted the fate of the car over the weeks that followed. There were plans to fix it up for their 18 year old son Joey. But Joey vetoed it when he learned of the financial burden about to be gifted to him. He was a rebel without a cause, or a job, or even a destination. Burt posted a vague Craigslist ad with a single image. A herd of enthusiasts followed. They flocked at the prospect of a $2000, $1800, then ultimately $1500 240Z. Each one met the car with a grimace or a scowl upon seeing it’s hideous toupee, peanut brittle interior, and hackjob sunroof. Every time, Paula lost a little magic from the memory of her glory days. She thought that maybe she wasn’t as cool as she remembered.
“Just call somebody to tow it away.”
Which I thought was a pretty well written story and it got me thinking about what memories I might have of my S30z's later on in life. What will be the ones that stick out for me?
So I thought I'd start a thread about what your favorite memory in your Z is and if you care to elaborate on why?
FYI: The junkyard special ended up being picked clean by junkyard vultures.
A shame because anywhere else in the world and that would have been a car that got saved..