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Weekly Contest #328
Brake-lights and Idols I bought my first car when I was fifteen years old with money I earned babysitting. A slate blue 1982 Volkswagen Jetta. Four doors, a crank sunroof, and hand-rolled windows. Stick shift, not automatic—what was called a “manual,” but no one said it like that. It was beat up. The radio only worked if you smacked it. The back passenger door wouldn’t open. Inside it smelled like hot garbage left in a tin drum in mid-August. I paid everything I had for it but I would have paid double. I didn’t buy a busted up car that nee...
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