The Porsche and the Metro

In this world there are two groups of people. Those who know cars and those who don't. The people that know cars live differently than those that don't. They notice details like, what size rims a vehicle has, or the headlights on the car in front of you are aftermarket. When describing their personal automobile they tell their full name, “a 2007 five series BMW” and sometimes share their features, “oh, it has navigation, climate control, satellite radio,...) Their attention to their vehicle is somewhat like the attention given to a child, or maybe a pet. The people in the world that don't know cars are very different. They notice details like, the car in front of you holds an overweight man picking his nose. When they describe their automobile they can't even remember the name, “uh, it is that green one over there- with the wheels.” Features are of no significance to this group and the attention given to their cars resemble the attention given to an old box of stuff in the corner of the garage. I descend from the latter.

My family never knew much about the cars we were driving. We were just happy if they were big enough to fit all nine of us kids and if they continued running even during the cold Nebraska winters. Sure we knew the names of some of the famous ones, Porsche, BMW, Mercedes- but we never formed much of an attachment to any of our personal vehicles. In fact, I don't think I knew a make or model of any car until I turned sixteen.

My dad has always taught us to be self sufficient, so when I finally got a driver's liscence he made it my responsibility to research, call and test drive the vehicles I was interested in. I would then have to present my top three findings to him for final selection. I am sure he thought this experience would be a wonderful way to teach me important social behaviors like talking to others, negotiating, setting a goal and accomplishing it- things like that.

Armed with a budget and my best friend to drive me around, we hit the five small dealerships in town. At the first dealership, a dark green four door caught my attention. We had walked onto the lot and browsed, but were unable to get anyone to talk to us. Salesmen sat inside a run down brick building, watching us through a window but none of them made an effort to work with us. Finally we walked into the building and asked if we could test drive the vehicle and we were denied. (If women think they have a hard time getting legitimate attention at a car dealership, try being a sixteen year old girl-with wholesome values- it is absolutely impossible.) We visited three other lots but were greeted with the same coldness. My dad's plan wasn't as brilliant as he thought, so I was finally able to talk him into coming with me and the entire experience changed.

We found a new 1995 aqua green GEO METRO at a Chevy dealership. (the only reason I knew it was a metro was because the letters METRO adorned the windshield.) The sales woman was equally kind to me and my father. The sale was easy for her, I thought it was “super cute” and dad thought the gas mileage and sticker price were “super great.” So we settled on it and I fell in love, with a tiny green two door that was affectionately referred to as the go-cart by many of my friends.

It was not until I met Sonny that I realized there was a whole other world out there. Full of brand names, special features, and amazing styles. You see he descends from a car family, with an entirely different car culture than my own. (Sonny's first car was a Porsche 914, it didn't really run ever, but it was pretty.) I have learned a lot from him over the years and after my four year old informed me we should buy a Kia Sedona because the commercial shows they are the greatest van on the planet, it looks as though the car gene will pass on to the next generation. I think we are a good mix though, you know the old saying, “opposites attract”, well in this case, a Porsche and a Metro came together very well.