She was my first

We went virtually every together, almost inseparable from the moment we met. I simply wanted to be with her in every moment. Her body seduced me; I craved the way she felt in my hands, the feel of her beneath me and I desired those beautiful moments in which I was inside her; that body surrounding me, cocooning me within her beautiful and sensuous curves as we moved together. It was blissful - She was my first.

The day I turned sixteen I obtained my learner-drivers permit. I knew how to drive already as I'd driven around my parents property from the age of about thirteen, but it was now official. I'd have to drive under supervision until I passed my drivers test but that was a formality - I knew soon I'd be able to drive alone. _{original im src}

Three months later that happened. I was licensed.

I started working at the local supermarket after school at the age of thirteen and whilst fifty percent of my meagre income went to my parents to help with the household bills, I was left with $25 to do with as I pleased. I saved most of it for various things, bought my own clothing and things and took financial the pressure off my mum and dad as much as possible.

By the time I secured my drivers license I had just under $700 saved up for a car. I had to work off a budget of $450 purchase price as there'd be ownership-transfer costs and I wanted to have enough for a couple tanks of fuel knowing I'd want to drive a lot initially. It wasn't much, but I had to buy my car completely myself; my parents couldn't afford to help.

White skin and cute freckles

When I saw her I knew I'd found the one. She had curves in all the right places and a cute sprinkling of freckles across her white skin...and boy could she move! Yep, she was the one. I did the deal and drove her away, the proud owner of a 1964 Volkswagen Beetle - My first car.

I'd better be honest here...She didn't really have freckles...the spots were rust holes and dents. Also, she didn't move so well - sort of slow and cumbersome really - but she was curvaceous and...she was mine. I was very proud.

From that point I began to drive to high school. I'd drop my two younger brothers at their primary school and off I'd go, just a cool dude and his first car. But yeah, it wasn't very cool. She leaked oil, had rust holes everywhere including a ragged rust hole in the footwell of the drivers side that meant I could see the road. She burned oil, needed constant attention and she was slow. I don't mean *slow and sensual...just slow. Very slow...but I was mobile.

We drove all over the place together, that girl and I, and I loved the feeling of freedom we found, just her and I.

I would clean that car for hours, not that it made any difference of course, but I'd clean it inside and out each week - It was a constant job cleaning up the rust flakes that seemed to build up constantly. I'd wash the exterior, do the windows, dry it all, polish what little chrome was left on the bumpers and trims and generally care for that car with a lot of love. I was brought up to respect what I had as it was unlikely I'd get another and it had taken a lot of effort have the money to secure, and pay for, the running of that car.

A couple of months after getting her I changed jobs to the bigger supermarket in the town and started earning a little more money; a good thing considering the costs of running that car. About eight months later I ended up selling her and buying something a little more reliable though as I was reluctant to sink money into a car that was clearly wasn't very sound. It was a sad moment as I truly felt like I was selling a friend.

That old girl and I had seen many good times together and when the fellow drove her away I felt quite sad. I had $400 in my hand though and my second car to experience more moments with...but I'd always have a soft spot for my first.

I'll never forget that car and memories of it will always make me smile.

I can hear its little engine puttering along, smell the interior and recall the feel of the knobs on the instrument panel, the clicking of the indicator and feel of that hard plastic steering wheel in my hands. I also remember the fear I felt when I hit the brakes and didn't know if she'd stop in time. She was a fickle girl, but was mine for a time. I don't have any photos of her unfortunately, there were no mobile phone cameras in 1986...I have the memories and they haven't faded.

I've had many cars plus several motorbikes since then and each has served its purpose. I've had some truly spectacular vehicles but...there's few I remember as fondly as that 1964 Volkswagen Beetle. That car signified a change in my life, it was a time I came to know myself a little better and found new and unexpected directions. I found freedom to some degree I suppose, and the moments we spent together are indelibly written in my memory.