Do you remember your first car? Most of us do. For sure.

Well, on Saturday, The-Youngest got his first car. It is way better than my first car (or The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s first car).

But why does the first car matter so much?

I’ll get to that in my old and slow way.

My first car was a Cricket Colt. I bought it about a year after I got my license with money I’d earned at Zellers working in department 37/39 pets and plants. How I remember that I worked in department 37/39 mystifies me when I can’t recall someone’s name 2 minutes after I’ve met them. I don’t know. Honestly. How?

However, I loved that car. Red on the outside, white on the inside. It took about an hour to get up to 80mph. Not a single woman ever turned their head and thought, wow, look at that guy in that car.

That’s ok.

It wasn’t about the type of car.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World didn’t have a love affair with her first car, a super classy brown Mustang from the era where Ford said, you know that super cool looking Mustang that sells like crazy, well we’re going to make slower, as boxy looking as a box, and as much fun to drive as a Lada.

Still, there must have been a part of her that loved her car. How could you not, even driving that abomination they called a Mustang?

See, for us, it wasn’t about how expensive the car was (not that either of us could afford an expensive car). No, it was about freedom!

Freedom.

For me, it was freedom to get to work. Freedom to pick up my girlfriend. Freedom to race the other kids in their cars through the streets and alleys of Victoria. I could go to a movie, McDonald’s, or my nerdy D&D stores any time I wanted.

Freedom, baby.

And now, much to our stress, The-Youngest has a car.

In typical fashion, he’d done weeks and weeks of research – sometimes with his mom. He knew he needed room for his skis and mountain bike. He knew he needed to be able to drive in all conditions, but didn’t need any off-road, Mad Max capabilities (much to my sadness).

Then, with a list in hand, he and his mom went on a test drive marathon. There’s a whole blog there but the short version is that after testing a few cars, a new listing popped up and they immediately booked another test drive.

Turned out that the just-listed car was a steal, but steals don’t happen often unless you’re in Whalley and then steals happen all the time, but, you know, real steals.

The car was amazing and in great condition and so The-Youngest put on his serious thinking face and did some serious thinking. Was this the car for him? It wasn’t a Tesla. It wasn’t a 3500 Ram. It wasn’t a turbo Civic with undercarriage lights and a stereo system in the trunk that can bring down a building.

It was a Kia. Optima. 2015.

And he bought it.

His first car.

No matter what happens in his life. He will remember this car.

He will remember all his firsts. His first drive in his own car. His first Dairy Queeen pick-up. His first ride with his friends. The first time he picks up a girl for a date (and she’ll be super impressed with his car because it is not a Cricket Colt).

His car gives him freedom.

And for a teenager, freedom is everything…

Even if greater freedom comes with greater responsibility.