My Car Craving and My Frustrations
The day that I walked with my dad to a showroom as he was shopping for a family car was the day that my obsession with cars started. I never knew that this craving would be so much overwhelming then, but later on in life I knew that the feeling was there to stay.
From the showroom experience, my dad purchased his first car, a Porsche 911 which I always feel that the car knew me than it did to the rest of my family members. Maybe it’s because of the fact that I was there on the day of purchase, but since then, there was this special attachment that I shared with the car. A craving which led me to learn more about kit cars, which offered a special way for any person to own any vintage make at reasonable prices.
This was never my dad’s first car. Although I was 12 by the time that he purchased this car, I was familiar with most of the car mechanical parts. There are many experiences that my dad and I had shared as he replaced several parts which were faulty prior to his purchase of this Porsche; some incidences that I can still remember vividly like one time when we rebuilt a transmission while I was just 9.
When I was 16, I decided that I needed a car of my own. My dad seemed to have thought about it because when I sat down with him to make my request on a summer holiday, he earnestly promised to ensure that I had one by winter that year. I was really happy about that but I had one special request. I needed a kit car.
I really craved to rebuild my own car. A point which my dad thought that I was crazy because the cost of obtaining a Cobra, my so-much yearned kit car was almost $30k, an amount which could afford me a decent brand new vehicle. But deep in my mind, I knew that I would settle for nothing less. Seeing this dad let me go after my dreams.
By mid of summer, I was having my own Cobra. Something that I could brag about and take girls out on. But there is something which seemed to really bother me. All my expectations were not yet attained. Although I had never owned a Cobra or even ride on it before, my knew Cobra had everything to suggest that it was an imitation which portrayed how made me feel stupid.
It was a Cobra by looking at it but the sound of the engine, the easiness of steering, the breaks and all other aspects pertaining to power and transmission of the cars portrayed my stupidity. Whenever I drove the car, to school or when visiting my uncle who lived nearby, I always felt as if I was just playing Need For Speed instead of being behind the wheels of one of the best cars on the road. This feeling became overwhelming whenever a friend would comment about the car, albeit with no bad intentions, and I would feel downtrodden.
Unable to take it any longer after 13 months, I explained to my dad my situation. I thought that he would be mad at me. But no! He was there to help me dispose it and purchase a second hand Miata which was better than the Cobra kit car that I always cherished before owning one. My grandma who passed from breast cancer a couple years back had one of those… I mean, they are pretty sweet I guess…