Naming Conventions and Numerous Excursions
The very first new car I ever bought was from the Saturn dealership in the early 90s in Green Bay, Wisconsin (see The Bay Of Green from April 2022). While the purchase was memorable, the two months that followed its joining our family marked the beginning of my blog, even if the internet was still just a twinkle in DARPA’s arsenal. I kept a running journal of our adventures, from the day we moved out of our little log cabin apartment, cruised across the Upper Peninsula, dabbled through Canada (see The First Time I Went To Canada from June 2022), and then trekked down the east coast of the United States (see The Long Road To Florida from October 2022). The journey wasn’t my first, and nowhere near my last, but it orchestrated a trend to see and do and absorb a country full of beauty.
My first car earned a noteworthy name, even if she were not a noteworthy car. This four-door gentlemen who replaced her received his name strictly because I was not the only owner of the vehicle, and the name felt like a convenient throwaway to the other name on the title. Epicboy, much like the line of automobiles that would follow, took me on innumerable adventures from the five Great Lakes (see OMES from March 2012), along the Outer Banks (see Ocracoke Nachos from February 2013), and even eventually enjoyed a slow ship abroad (see All In Perspective from March 2021). I would leave him behind when I divorced, and even own a couple duplicates after him that proved just as equal to the adventurous tasks.
Baptism By Stick Shift
In addition to needing a new car, the journey I was planning from The Upper Peninsula to Florida (see Twelve Days In Ten Years from October 2021) took on more than the adventure of travelling great distances alone with a one-year-old. I also purchased a standard transmission having never successfully driven one. I had a lesson or two in my teenager years, but the words used to describe the driving experience lacked applicability compared to being behind the wheel and a clutch. This was my driving lessons: 2,200 miles over twelve days, including border crossings, ferry boats, and five gears on the stick shift.
During its lifetime, albeit a fraction of mine, I learned to drive swiftly on the Autobahn. I learned to navigate scary narrow roads (see One-Lane Roads from February 2021) bravely. I gave into the sweet addiction of travel. It wasn’t the wheels, or the body design, or even the transmission. Epicboy taught me that adventure and exploration superseded settling for mediocrity. Future vehicles were often just as unordinary, some nearly identical, but the ability to control the machinery and the destination of my life, the places I would journey, and the choices I would make ranked more spectacularly than my first new car. I continue to own the adventures including the ones I have yet to experience.
Pam Portland 