Thanks to a great part time job and the help of my parents who really came through last year, I have my own car. Ok this is not a Rolls Royce or anything that, but it did make me proud as I drove it around Denver. But it was my car. With all of the faults it had (and there are hundreds and climbing), it was my very first car and I drove it to and from work with total pride. I guess if you put a cash price on my car it may equal a flat screen new TV. But hell, as I said it is my car.
Now I actually took a great big leap of faith when I decided to drive it 500 plus miles to my new college. The car was stacked with my stuff, and there was no room for my dad to come too. So there I was driving my poor car about 50mph all the way, and trying very hard not to brake and bring my entire luggage on top of me. I will admit it is a little scary to have to do such a long journey on your own for the very first time, as my navigation seemed to get confused from where South and North was. But miracles of miracles I arrived safe, and parked my car with pride outside the dorm area.
I looked around at all the teachers and staff cars and wished I had the money to buy something like that. But within a few days I realized that those teacher cars were in fact cars belonging to other students. My pride of my little car was sinking fast. These guys had money to burn, and I bet most of them did not even lift a finger to contribute to the cost of the car at all. Yes I was jealous.
But having any car in college does make you a little more popular. It was much more fun than class and that boring essay editing, so I soon I became the driver for nights out of drinking and touring. The cost of gasoline always seems to be mine totally, and I cannot recall anyone putting their hands in their pockets to help out. But hell I was a driver!
Then I began to realize I could not enjoy myself as much as my passengers. On the way to a venue it was fine, but on the way back they were mostly drunk, which of course I was not. I suppose I did save money on not drinking, but I certainly was not enjoying my new career as taxi driver for my friends.
After a few weeks of exploring and touring, my funds were out as everything went on the gas and the occasional repairs that Betsy (I named her that) needed to keep going. So I suggested to my friends that we only go out every two weeks and save poor Betsy from worry, and keep expenses down. That all seemed very logical to me.
Somehow in translation to my friends it failed. I was now the devil responsible for stopping them enjoying themselves. I was responsible for trapping them in the dorm and breaking all the fun and laughter of the last few weeks. Fun and laughter that I rarely could join in on.
A few days into this cut down on the use of Betsy, I asked the guys if we can all go down to the student bar for the night. I was amazed at the reaction. No, they said they were already going out that night and would not be going tonight. They (without me) had found another driver who was willing to drive them around.
There was no thank you, or would you like to come along or anything like that. I had been sacked as their unpaid taxi driver. I was now relegated to sad boy staying in his room alone status. This gave me the opportunity of getting on with the famous essay editing. But I was hoping that someone would be my taxi driver. Just once.
About The Author:
Martin Law now has a new car. The only passenger is his beautiful girlfriend Jane.
