The StudMobile

I guess you could call it a love affair.

No, I’m not being unfaithful to my wife. I’m talking about my car. It’s a 2003 Mazda 6 named M.J., and I truly love her. Leather seats, 5-speed manual, V-6, sunroof, 6 CD changer…what’s not to love?

I’m a “typical man” when it comes to cars. I’m not into the ultra “Penis Cars”…they really do make guys look like they’re compensating for something. But finding a car that fits…well, then the car becomes a part of me and I really grow to love it. I greet it when I get in it, sing to it, talk to it.

It started with my first car. It was ridiculously named “The Stud Mobile”…If you had seen it, you would’ve caught the irony. A 1982 Toyota Starlet hatchback, it was the most un-studly vehicle a guy could own. What made it so great was that it was so unique and it had a TON of character.

First of all, Toyota only made the car for two years. I never saw another one on the road in Illinois. I’ve seen a couple since I’ve been in Los Angeles, but not very many. It sat on tires the size of many doughnut-sized spare tires today. And it would take whatever abuse a 16 year old boy could dish out. It was a tin-can death trap, and I (stupidly) pushed it to the limit. I suppose my faith in God should be a little stronger, given that I walked away from driving that car after driving it for MANY years with nary a scratch.

Toyota was responsible for making it unique, but I was responsible for the character. Initially, I think I was actually trying to make the car cool. I bought some really cheap plastic rims to put on the tires. My dad and I tinted the rear windows with a home-tinting kit. (We did not sink any money into this car at all). He wouldn’t let me tint the front windows because it was against the law. At least, that’s what his story was. In reality he probably just wanted to make sure anyone could see in the car, make sure that there would be no hanky-panky. Not that I could have picked up ANY chicks with that car…it just screamed “I’m insignificant!”

We bought some seat covers when the seats started wearing out. They actually improved the appearance more than anything else. By covering up the imitation-vinyl seats (I have no idea what they were actually made from, but I’m confident it was the cheapest plastic available to man in 1982), the car achieved some measure of comfort.

The best addition, though, was the stereo. All of our neighbors knew when I was home because they’d hear the stereo screaming by their houses. My dad heard from a relative or friend that the Carver company was liquidating their car stereo warehouse, selling $400 car stereos for $60 a pop. No warranty, no guarantees, you might be getting a completely worthless piece of crap. Dad ordered three. I guess the odds seemed pretty good that one of three would be in operating condition.

He was right. One of them worked, and we installed it. I got a pair of 6x9 speakers for my birthday, and we installed those too. Soon thereafter I began destroying my hearing.

It may not sound like it, but all I had was love for that car. And, oh the stupid adventures I had in it…

I learned to do doughnuts in that car, and almost wrecked it in the process. I was trying to impress a girl once (I should’ve known better, given what I had to work with), spun a doughnut in a gravel church parking lot, and slammed the car into some bushes on the passenger side. The girl, being in the passenger seat, was less than impressed.

The thing to do in our tiny town was to cruise the square. All of the delinquents would sit on the square, smoking, and all of the kids with cars would drive around it as many times as possible. My buddy Ryan and I would mock this adolescent show of masculinity by driving around and around the square in my little car, honking and waving at people. It almost got us beat up a couple of times. Delinquents don’t enjoy being mocked by two smart-asses in a clown-car.

Then there was “Tickle Hill”. It was a tiny hill on the outskirts of town, and the thing to do was speed down this road that was barely paved. When you hit the top of the hill you would turn off the headlights and feel your stomach jump into your throats. Apparently, we thought this wouldn’t happen if the headlights were on. We were a silly, superstitious lot.

Now that I think about it, we probably turned out the lights to make sure no other car was coming so we cold slam on the breaks if we needed to. Not that slamming on the brakes would have helped much. We were flirting with death, none of us wise enough to realize it.

Then the car began to break down, giving it all that much more of a personality and character.

The car doors would freeze shut in the winters. So every fall we’d rub the rubber seals with baby powder to try and prevent it. Sometimes the locks would freeze, too. I would have to either climb in through the passenger side or, if that door was frozen too climb in through the hatchback. There’s nothing like coming back to your car at the end of a date in the middle of winter, only to find the car locks and doors frozen shut. How impressive it must have been when I would climb in through the hatchback, unlock the passenger door from the inside, and push with all my might with my feet against the door to pry it open.

The driver side seat bolts started rusting through the floor during my Senior year of high school. That’s when I started using my chemistry book in a way the publishers never dreamed (it was the perfect height for holding up the driver’s seat). For the rest of the car’s life, a chemistry book was an integral part of the car’s construction.

We gave the car away to one of my cousins when I graduated college, and I was sad to see it go. Apparently it was sad too. Not long after we gave it away it was so heartbroken that it stopped working.

I don’t think I had any of my teen-age “rites of passage” in that car. I didn’t lose my virginity in it or anything like that. For one thing, there wasn’t room. It was damn near impossible to make out in it! But no nerdy death-trap was loved more than my 1982 Toyota Starlet.

Rest in Peace, StudMobile.