When Clint Eastwood released a movie called Gran Torino, it brought back haunting memories. Not of Clint Eastwood, or of the socio-economic and racial prejudice that serves as a theme for the movie (I haven’t seen the movie yet) but of the actual car. It was the first car I remember my mother bringing home. My sister and I were at my grandmothers house when my mom drove up in the early 70′s model Ford. My sister and I were so excited we jumped up and down on the back seat (which was twice the size of a trampoline. That would be the last day I was ever excited about that car. Growing into myself, becoming more self aware, and comparing our car to the other cars parents drove quickly revealed my mother liked driving boats. Enormous, gas guzzling, multi-ton barges on wheels. And finally, after countless trips to the mechanic in which my mother spent the equivalent of monthly payments on a Mercedes, she let the car go and picked up another. Sadly, though, it was no improvement. She came home with something that looked like whatever this is: Now this was our family car during my jr. [...]
