An ode to my ’95 Corolla

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I admit it; I didn’t want you. I wanted the Ford Explorer SUV with the leather seats. I didn’t want another Corolla with an NRA sticker on the back.

It was the end of my senior year of college and having a 1995 Toyota Corolla wasn’t exactly how I wanted to go into adulthood. When I moved to Florida, driving a Corolla 1600 miles was not exactly a smooth ride. But, when we move back six months later, I realize how much more expensive gas would have cost for an SUV.

She’s not pretty. She’s a purple-brown-gray color and has a few rust spots. I’ve lived in the city for years, so she has dents and dings. She’s taken me to Florida, to New York, to the beach to see old friends. She’s never left me stranded or had me wondering if she could make the trip. She doesn’t guzzle gas like that SUV would have, and, just recently, she turned 200,000 miles, I am grateful for her.

I used to always want a nice fancy car, but I have definitely learned that as long as I have something reliable, (Plus, no car payment!) So, little 1995 Toyota Corolla, if you would, please last me another 15-20,000 miles.

( And yes, I insisted that my dad remove that NRA sticker.)

 

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