Last week I left you with the story of my poor Pontiac Grand AM.
Continuing with my car saga, when my grandmother passed away, I inherited her Chevy Lumina.
This thing was a beast. The front end alone was about the size of the rest of the car. I always felt like I was driving a boat whenever I took it anywhere, but man was it a nice vehicle.
The Lumina came with me up to Minneapolis for college, and I got real good at parallel parking because there wasn’t any parking at my student housing, which just left the street. For those of you out there that have to park on Blaisdell Avenue – I feel you.
The Lumina was a great car – we took many trips to Iowa together to visit my family. In fact, she helped me move back home when I dropped out of college after my first semester (don’t worry, I went back to school).
I remember very clearly the day my Lumina—quite literally—saved my life.
After I moved back home, I got a job at the local Country Kitchen as a hostess/server. I always parked my car in the same spot, but on that fateful day I had parked in a spot over, closer to the side of the building. I didn’t think much of it, considering I was opening that day and it was really early. I just went about my business as usual.
As I was wiping down tables in the smoking section later that afternoon, I happened to glance at my car. I was just getting ready to move onto the next table when all of a sudden a mini van comes tearing down the freeway, swerves and slams right into the side of my car going about 50 mph.
The shock of what had just happened froze me in place for all of 5 seconds before I high-tailed it outside to see how I could help after yelling to my coworkers to call 911.
Turns out that my vehicle was one of five that were involved in this crazy accident. My poor Lumina suffered a bent frame and had to be put out to pasture.
Next week, I’ll introduce you to my third vehicle: The Dodge Stratus.