Fun, fun, fun, ’til Daddy takes the Mustang away
Feb 4th, 2007 by Accidental Thinker
Let’s be perfectly clear about one thing. Daddy never actually took the Mustang away; rather, he was the one who bought it for me. A brand-spanking new 1986 white Mustang convertible with a sporty red interior. License plate number AXC 76P. (It’s amazing, the trivial things the brain chooses to remember.) I wasn’t quite yet 16. I didn’t know anything about horsepower. But I knew I had a way cool car—arguably one of the most coveted vehicles in the Pirate parking lot. With those wheels, I should have been officially the coolest kid in school.
Yes, I was one of those privileged youth. Raised in a family that enjoyed a relatively high standard of living within the small town we lived in. I think, I hope, that I didn’t let it go to my head. The truth is, although we lived in a nice house, I didn’t have any more than my classmates in terms of flashy clothes or faddish trinkets or spendable cash. At school, the only obvious sign of my socioeconomic status was that car, and a prized possession it was, though I was careful not to show off too much. I didn’t want to be known as the spoiled rich kid. But the car spoke for itself and attracted new friends who were more than happy to hang with me as long as I would drive—in the way cool convertible, of course.
So the Mustang and I spent much quality time together with friends and, later, boyfriends, zooming all around town and beyond, top always down, with wind rippling through our hair. And all was blissful in Mo-land.
But as time wore on, I began to sense that some of my new “friends†cared more about being seen in the convertible than about being seen with me, while others resented my good fortune and really did see me as spoiled. Me, Most Shy, the girl who just wanted to get along. Still, a good-natured joke here, and a snide comment there, and before long it was clear that the cool car didn’t really make me any cooler. Or more popular. Though for the most part the teasing was harmless, and I took it as it was intended—in good fun.
Except it wasn’t always good fun.
I was sometimes teased by peers for not having to work. The implication was clear. I had the easy life, with everything—especially the fancy car—handed to me on a silver platter. The truth was, my parents placed much more emphasis on an education that would lead to a self-sustaining career than on a part-time job that would land me enough cash for the movies or the latest designer jeans. As far as they were concerned, unless I was making straight A’s, my time was better spent studying. Smart parents. Their push for long-term academic excellence in lieu of short-term “gotta have it†gain paid off.
Later, when I finally landed that longed-for first summer job as a waitress, eager to demonstrate a work ethic and establish an employment history, a catty co-worker, who also happened to be a classmate, informed me that my posh car was out of place in the employee parking lot. She then went on to say the thing that humiliated one sensitive and circumspect teen. She bluntly accused me of taking a job away from someone who “really†needed it. Typical, isn’t it, that the coveted dream car fed into an unjust stereotype and resulted in spiteful barbs?
Don’t get me wrong. I loved that car, which holds many fond memories, and I have long since forgiven the cutting remark, having attributed the scene to adolescent inexperience. But I still remember it clearly nearly 20 years later, word for word, because it taught an important life lesson that has stayed with me to this day. It taught me to appreciate the things I am fortunate enough to have, but not to bank my happiness or social acceptance on them. At the end of the day it’s just “stuff,†and only temporary stuff, at that.
Now, these many years later, my family and I find ourselves on the verge of buying a new home. It’s natural to want the best our budget will allow—the most space, the nicest accoutrements, a desirable neighborhood, a swimming pool for the kids. The suburban family version of “stuff.†Yet I find myself remembering the days of the Mustang, and reminding myself that our lifestyle is not about bragging rights or “keeping up.†It’s not about impressing our neighbors and friends or finding fulfillment in our accumulated possessions. It’s about wise choices tempered with modesty and respect, and remembering not to let the things we own define who we are.
And no, my kids will not be getting brand new convertibles when they turn 16. Pity them deeply, because their first cars will be big and ugly and safe. But they will still be the coolest kids in school, because their parents will have taught them it’s who they are on the inside that makes them stand out, not what they have or don’t have.
What a good post. I can relate. My dad bought me a Datsun 280 ZX in 1986, too. That was a really cool car back then. I took turns driving it and my parents Volvo. I got a job when I was 18 or 20, at Ron Jon Surf Shop, and only because I wanted the discount on my swimsuits and surfing supplies. I look back and think my youth was very priviledged. Yet, my husband, who had multimillionaire parents, was lucky to get new clothes for Christmas, and never passed out Valentine’s in his class because his mom wouldn’t spend the money to buy them. But, there is another major difference between us. I grew up with no financial responsibility, and my husband, because of his financial responsibility, had secured our retirement years ago. I think its great to give kids nice things as long as you teach them that money doesn’t grow on trees, and you have to work for it. Money isn’t something to be spent on an impulse or a whim. I’ve finally learned this, but I’m ashamed to say I learned it from my husband and not from where I should have learned it–from my parents. It looks like your parents did you right, though! And good luck on your search for a new home!
Those things are hard to remember, but in the end when you purchase your house you will be much happier that you are in something that is perfect for your family rather than impressive to other people.
Excellent message, in that, jobs, things we own or what others think are not the defining elements of our journey. It’s interesting how clear that all becomes in our last moments. And how a simple the lesson learned might have salvaged what was lost.
Well, I was the kid whose dad worked in the factory and could barely feed us, let alone buy us things. If I wanted something, especially something extra, like pizzas, cokes, new clothes, etc, or, eventually, a car (1965 Chevy Bel Air), well, guess I better find me some work. I think it depends on the kid, too. One might be able to make school his “job” while another has to learn every lesson the hard way, no matter what education they have. I would never have thought to make a comment like that, though. I would have been impressed that you weren’t too good to work. You are right about it being what’s on the inside that counts. You can lose your looks, but you can’t lose who you are. Good post. The only time I’m ever disappointed when I come here is when there is no update.
Adolescents can sometimes be very cruel in their remarks, especially if there is some jealousy behind the words. Good for you for finding the positive in those cutting words.
You’ve heard it said, “Damned if you do; damned if you don’t.”
It seems you couldn’t win no matter what you did back when you had that car. The car set you apart from others, and they resented it.
True friends would not have resented it. They would have been happy for you and enjoyed the fun of hanging around and cruising with you.
I hope you find just the perfect house for your family and your budget. Your kids will appreciate having a pool, and you’ll be thrilled that they are having so much fun exercising!
They’ll eat really well too after all that swimming.
Rejoice in all the good things that come your way. Life throws us enough bad to deal with, so never feel guilty about your blessings.
Jamie’s right: rejoice in the Good Things the Lord sends your way.
My dad bought me a car when I went off to college. My grades weren’t good enough, so he took it away and sold it faster than you can say, “Wanna drag?”
Outstanding post.
Lemme know when you post a youyou.
What a great post. Thanks.
Kids can be really hard on other kids. I guess it will always be that way.
And sometimes that leaves scars.
cas
Wow, your Mustang sounds so great. I can see how kids would like the car more than friendships; teen years are so tough.
Your kids will be fine not having a car at 16; you love them and that is what is the most important thing. Who cares what other kids think (I can say that now LOL).
This was a really great post… it takes me back in time a bit.
Great post! Modesty, common sense, and a good reminder of what should be our REAL priorities.
I had a big and ugly car in my teens, but I’m not sure it was safe, as it was made by the now defunct AMC motors. It even had faux wood paneling. 😉
delayed reaction to this post, but I think i still have a picture you sent me of you in that car!!!