I was 21 years old, and working my first job as a news reporter before I got my first car; a 1965, red mustang, very cool. I picked it out myself. I paid for it myself. I cried the day a 16-year-old driving his first car slammed into the back of it and rammed it into a big old heavy 1975 Chrysler Cordoba (with rich Corinthian leather) that was parked in front of it.

My beautiful mustang was crunched beyond repair. But I’ll never forget it. I’m getting a little weepy even now just thinking about it. Needless to say, I know how great a love one can deveop with their first car.

So when Trey, my 19 year old, said he wanted to come home from college one weekend and look for a car I got a bit nervous, and a little excited too.

Trey, and I too, had saved up for this moment. He’s been working as a grocery store sacker and cashier since he was 14. Early on he spent every penny he earned on basketball shoes and way- too-expensive jeans. I told him if he ever wanted to get a car he had better start saving for it or he’d be putting a lot more miles on those $100 sneakers. Funny how your kids will step up to the plate when you lay down the law, including the consequences you intend to let them deal with. You just let them decide to follow the parent laws or not. In my experience, they usually make the right decision. Trey got is permit when he was 15 but waited until he was 17 before he went for his license. His choice. He said he wanted to be sure he was ready to take on that responsibility.  

Finally the car-buying weekend had arrived. And to make it even more clear that he needed a car, Trey called to tell me he couldn’t find anyone coming home that he could hitch a ride with that weekend and asked if could I drive nearly 2 hours to Maryville to pick him up. If we didn’t find a car and get it all legal in one day that would also mean I’d have to drive him back. As it turned out I was really missing the kid and wanted to see him anyway, and as I said, I was pretty excited about him getting a car. So, to Maryville I went. We had some great mother and son bonding time. We talked about everything but cars.

I don’t know a lot about cars, neither does he. I know what looks good and I know what gets good mileage. I know too what I would buy. Something cute, practical and reliable; exactly what a 19-year-old young man wouldn’t want. I’m thinking he’s gonna either want a big boat of a car, like a Chevy Impala with big, woofen speakers that go boom. Or, something sporty and way too fast and too expensive to insure. I started figuring how I was going to talk him out of either of those and get him to come around to my way of thinking. I know the rule of thumb in situations like this. Don’t push too hard one way or the other. You push, they push back - just the opposite of what you want. I’d try to go with the flow, interjecting some down sides to the boat or the speedy sporty here and there, almost subliminally.

The week before, every where I went I found myself checking out cars on the road and in some of those buy-here-pay-here lots for something I thought he’d look good in. Looking good is very important to Trey. He’s an impeccable dresser. His brother, Jordan, just the opposite. He’s told me on more than one occasion that “clothing is just so other folks don’t have to look at you naked.”

Ok, so about the car.

Trey and I headed up to 24 Highway in Independence where there are rows of used car lots and start the hunt. On the way he tells me he wants a small SUV, something he’ll be able to haul his stuff from college home in at the end of the semester. And I’m thinking, yeah and big enough for your laundry basket once a month.

But what I said was that gas prices were on the rise. And of course in my head I was cheering knowing there would be no need for clever manipulation away from the boat or sports car.

The first vehicle he loved the look of was a Toyota RAV4. No dents. Pretty clean interior. But the minute he turned on the ignition an ear-piercing screech screamed from the engine.

The next car was a late model Suzuki Grand Vitara; gorgeous but way out of our price range.

Then he spotted it. A 2001 white and gold Kia Sportage. Nice looking body; tiny dings here and there nothing major. Clean interior, CD player, heat and air worked fine. Under the hood? Clean as a whistle.

It drove pretty good too; nothing knocking, nothing screeching, whining or shaking. The best part, it was exactly what we wanted to pay.

Within less than an hour, Trey was belted in the driver’s seat of his first car. He pulled up next to me at a stop light on the way home. I looked over at him bobbing his head to music I could not hear. He must have felt my stare because he turned and smiled big. He gave me a thumbs up. The light turned green. He pulled off. I was a little slower out of the box. Tears welled in my eyes and I heard myself saying, "wow, my baby is all grown up."