Convertible, top down (always.) I wasn’t going to be overly selective about whether it was a Z3 or a Miata as long as I could have the wind in my hair and the sun kissing my cheeks. Envisioning the top down and the pedal pressed tightly against the floorboard, full speed ahead without a glance at the passerbys or the signs before me. My capriciousness desired only to feel the earth’s canopy hugging my me-ness without restraint, or shame. Carefree, open. Clueless, maybe, as I considered the nuances that come with leaving the top down- too often.
In a little over a week, I’ll celebrate the doubling of the age that brought me new found independence with my driver’s license. I was the first kid in my blended family to pay for my own car. Even so, my father wasn’t too keen on his youngest daughter tooling around in a convertible. So, the Plymouth Sundance chose me, being that I could foot the bill for it.
It was nestled in the bay of a worn down car lot by the railroad tracks on Markland Avenue. I perused the lot, checking out price tags, searching for the one I could purchase with the $1800 I had been saving up since I started working at 14. After the salesman saw the look of disappointment on my face from the obvious selections. He shared that he was in the process of working on something that I might want to see. He walked me toward the workshop and that lipstick red, blazing bright color brightened the gloomy grey of the day. I bought it. He hadn’t quite pounded out the scar on the passenger door before I drove it off the lot. It had all the necessary components, even with lacking a convertible top. Even with its imperfections, I filled it with the shrills of Glenn Danzig and the bumping rhymes of Snoop Dogg.
Damn it, I still haven’t had a convertible. Maybe that’s a good thing: I’m learning that the roof is quite functional. The shelter from the long winters, cold rains, and sometimes-unfortunately, the blistering sun makes for a sensible ride. Lessons showered on you release your foot from the gas. I’ve been switching over to the break more lately. Halting the elements in a convertible are more difficult. So that hard roof suits me for this and that. Until that convertible chooses me, I keep rolling down all the windows. The breeze has done me just right from where I sit.