My One and Only 1986 Camaro

It was a cold winter and a typical Christmas in Las Vegas, Nevada on December 25, 2005. There was a fire going in the fire place, and I could hear crackling from the fire. From time to time I would see the flames out of the corner of my eye get large and then small, repeating this pattern so erratically, that in my mind it was entertaining. Eventually, it came time to open the presents, and my focus slowly drifted back to my family. Slowly, that is, until I saw him. He was a handsome, white, 1986 Camaro, with all original parts and furnishings. I believe I received the greatest present of all. All that mattered was that he was mine. I could tell this was going to be a long lasting, satisfying relationship. I had fallen in love. Indeed, he certainly was perfect for me.

Before Christmas arrived, my father and I had talked about him and other cars that were similar to him. We even went and looked around at a used car dealership. For example, there was a bright red Chevelle that we had observed, but she was much too elegant for me. She looked more high maintenance than a supermodel. I certainly wasn’t going to compete with her, so she was crossed off of my list of dream cars without hesitation or regret. Most of the cars were in such horrible condition, that the car salesman had a better chance selling them with LEMON written all over them in big, bold, black lettering. In addition to the Chevelle, there was also a pitiful El Camino, a hazardous Firebird, and a Corvette rustier than the tin man. Basically, the salesman was concerned about selling any car to me, especially a lemon. I knew he wasn’t looking out for my best interest, so I made sure not to let my guard down. After looking at many cars, I became hopeless. Luckily, my father found him for me.

I wasn’t expecting much, but something decent. He had exceeded my expectations. Much trust had been put into him by my father. My father and I had no oppositions against him, if anything we were very pleased. Father seemed to be especially pleased with him. Obviously, my father trusted him and if my father trusted him, then I too trusted him.

For many days and nights, I pondered the places he would take me. Instinctively, I knew he would come as my father had promised me. I imagined us taking a cruise to California down by the beach, or maybe even a drive to a lake. I pictured myself sitting in the driver’s seat feeling a light breeze of air sift softly through my hair from the open windows of the car. Maybe, I would drive him on a cool summer evening, while trying to listen to music at a medium volume. Sometimes I thought of his engine as powerful and loud. I worried his engine would roar so loud that I would be officially deaf before I was a senior citizen. Worst of all, I worried that the engine would be so loud that I wouldn’t possibly be able to listen to music while driving him. Undoubtedly, I knew that he would take me anywhere that he was capable of reaching. If, perhaps, he were capable, he would take me to the moon and back. I would be naive to think such a thing. After all, he wasn’t the Apollo 13, but he could take me to places that I’ve never been before and that’s better than nothing at all.

However, he had limitations. Nothing is completely flawless. He wasn’t in the best shape, and he wasn’t as good looking as George Clooney, but he was physically attractive. Not surprisingly, he had a very rugged look comparable to a lumberjack or a construction worker. The rear view mirror was missing, the air conditioning didn’t work, and the interior was more worn than a twenty year old baseball mitt, but I didn’t seem to mind. Somehow, I think these faults made him attractive and unique. Surely he wasn’t perfect, but you could tell from the looks of him that he could clean up nicely. When I first touched his body, I felt a surge of energy pulse throughout me. The feeling was quite exhilarating and it seemed as though butterflies were fluttering around in my stomach at the speed of light. We had a connection and it was a strong one.

Overall, he had been beautifully crafted by some of the finest automotive technicians. A true classic he was and remains. He no longer belongs to me, but I hope that whoever possesses him has the opportunity to experience him as greatly as I had once before, in all the beauty that he represents.