divorcecars: You don’t even know… This was my dad’s divorce car. First stick I’d ridden in since like 82. All white leather interior. CD AND tape—And the tape flipped automatically! My friends were supremely jealous—they called it the silver sled (…) Probably the only good thing about my parents’ splitting up (in the first year) was riding around in that thing. It had a special part of the dashboard devoted to telling us how much turbo was going in the car. My dad took me to all my high school interviews in that thing. Us tearing up the New England map at 5am racing to Groton, etc. Of course, showing up in that thing screamed “arriviste,” and Groton negged me. I insisted on playing Rhythm of the Saints whenever I rode in that car. Or sometimes Rei Momo. Good times. But it was a lease. So it was gone a mere few years later.

divorcecars:

You don’t even know… This was my dad’s divorce car. First stick I’d ridden in since like 82. All white leather interior. CD AND tape—And the tape flipped automatically!

My friends were supremely jealous—they called it the silver sled (…) Probably the only good thing about my parents’ splitting up (in the first year) was riding around in that thing. It had a special part of the dashboard devoted to telling us how much turbo was going in the car.

My dad took me to all my high school interviews in that thing. Us tearing up the New England map at 5am racing to Groton, etc. Of course, showing up in that thing screamed “arriviste,” and Groton negged me.

I insisted on playing Rhythm of the Saints whenever I rode in that car. Or sometimes Rei Momo.

Good times. But it was a lease. So it was gone a mere few years later.

(via grandavenue)

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