First car, first love!

13/02/12

Like a first kiss, everyone remembers a first car. Mine was a 1999 black Citroen Saxo 1.1 SX (the car that is, not the kiss). There’s just something about our first car that will always keep it parked in a special place in our hearts.

You’ve thrown away your ‘L’ plates, browsed the classifieds and, usually on the advice of your parents, you’ve parted with what little money you have as a 17-year-old for a tiny, rusty hatchback that usually had some very questionable bodywork.

Sure, it costs a fortune to insure, it’s not the coolest car in the world and you’re always worried about that clunking noise from the back, but who cares?

First cars are never loved because they were fast, sleek, reliable or even good looking. Your very first car was loved because it was freedom personified. It was your passage to the big wide world. It didn’t matter that you could never afford to fill it with more than £5 worth of petrol; your first car was your ticket to adventure. That’s why they become our first love.

Even if you spent most of your weekends on the hard shoulder, with steam coming out from under the bonnet, your first car moved us like no other car has done since. We remember the music that we used to play over the radio, we remember exactly how you’d have to ‘jiggle’ certain switches and we remember all the things that never seemed to work. In the days when cars come with a host of gadgets and creature comforts, we forget just how simple our first cars were.

In the case of my Saxo, it allowed me to follow my favourite football team across the country. On many occasions, I was astounded at how we made it to the next away ground without any mishaps. I remember that, for some inexplicable reason, the fuel gauge kept telling me that at the end of my journey, I had more fuel in the tank than I did when I started every time I arrived in Hull. I also remember the time I trawled the streets of Bristol for hours after forgetting where I parked it.

And that’s why I loved it. No other car has given me so many memories and so many stories to tell. It might not have been the best car, but it was definitely the most special – right up until I drove it into the back of the number 91 bus.