Big day!

Friday was a momentous day in the world of Meaghan. To explain just how momentous it was, let me rewind the clock a bit. Those of you who knew me in high school may recall the awesome vehicles I drove. Just as a warning, this will probably be a long, involved blog. But the story is too good to not document.

When I first turned 16 my Grandparents surprised me by driving up to Decatur in their 1986 Ford Mustang convertible...and then leaving the car with me (well, the family, really, but I was the one of "driving" age without a car) to use. The Mustang looked much like this one- only blue.

My best friend Kelly and I had many, many fun times in that car. Those were the days of $0.98/gallon tanks of gas, which meant I could fill up for around $12. Kelly and I drove all over that summer- on our "Route", to Clinton to go out on the lake, to basketball stuff, etc...

Once we drove to Peoria to pick up Layta, our family's exchange student and got a flat tire on the side of the road, somewhere between Wapella and Bloomington. Did either of us know how to fix a flat tire? No, of course not. We were stranded on the side of the road. Fortunately Mom had given me her brand new cell phone to use in case of an emergency so we were able to call Mom and Dad and have them come help us. And what did we do while we waited for them? We donned some full-body mechanic suits that I had in my trunk (don't ask why...), hiked into a corn field to use the bathroom, stripped out of the mechanic suits, down to our sports bras, and laid out for an hour and a half while we waited for our help to arrive. If you can imagine, two 16 year old girls stripped down to their sports bras laying out on the side of Interstate 55 really drew a lot of attention from passersby. And not really good attention. We had to politely turned down several offers to "help" us. Parents- let your young daughters know that it isn't a great idea to follow in our footsteps. Girls, if you are reading this- learn how to change a tire...or at the very least, be smart enough to stay fully clothed when you are put in a predicament like we were in.

Believe it or not, that isn't the dumbest thing I did in the Mustang! The mother of all stupid moves came later that summer. I was working at LaGondola and was due into work around 4 PM. Kelly lived just a couple blocks from work, so I stopped by to say hello. We were blowing bubbles in her backyard (I know, how cool were we??) when we decided it would be fun to blow bubbles out the window of my car with the top down. So Kelly jumped in the driver's seat and we took off around her neighborhood. We were driving along, I was admiring all the pretty bubbles, while Kelly was complaining that she couldn't see the bubbles because they were all floating behind the car. So what did our genius, 16 year old minds decide was the perfect solution to this problem? Why, we would drive in reverse, of course! It seemed like such a perfect, easy solution to our dilemma. So Kelly kicked it into reverse and off we went. We were driving along, both enjoying the pretty bubbles, then...CRASHHHH! We hit a truck. A parked truck. On the side of a residential road. Genius, I tell you. The ironic part was that we were driving so slowly that there was absolutely zero damage done to the truck, and the Mustang only suffered from a cracked rear light. We contemplated running from the scene of the accident, but our guilty Catholic consciences wouldn't allow it. So we made the death walk- up the driveway, to the door of a stranger, to tell them we just ran into their parked car.

"How?" the truck owner asked. We proceded to tell her just a tiny white lie about turning around in her driveway (no bubbles were mentioned to protect the innocent...I mean, guilty) and not noticing her truck. She surveyed the scene, and observed that the damage was done to our car, not her truck. Then, she asked the question that Kelly and I still ask each other to this day- "Why on earth did you guys come up here and tell me? Why didn't you just leave?".

Needless to say, the incident didn't go over well with Mom and Dad. Shortly after the "Bubble" accident, I was stripped of my rights to use the Mustang and was instead allowed to use a beast of an automobile- our full size conversion van, also blue. It looked much like this.

Impressive, right? So I spent the rest of my high school years being the envy of soccer moms, while my Dad quickly became the envy of everyone at Wagners in his new ride. The carefree days of running the streets of Decatur were over. I now looked like I was eternally ready to pick up my 3.2 kids from swim practice and run to the grocery store for milk. It wasn't all bad though. When a big group of friends wanted to go to the movies, we didn't have to worry about taking several cars. All 15 of us could pile into my van, and off we went! The van will live in infamy amongst my highschool friends. We still talk about my "sweet" highschool ride to this day. In fact, the van will forever live in one of St Teresa's yearbook. In it there is a picture of my friend Nicki and I surfing on top of the van. Yes, surfing. Those were the days.

I went on to college in St. Louis, leaving the van behind me. None of my brothers or sister were ever allowed the...pleasure...of driving the van after me. I was the only Wingard child to have the pure joy of being seen around town driving a full size conversion van...I was probably the only 16 year old teenager in Decatur driving a full size conversion van.

Since then, I haven't had a car. Living in Chicago I didn't need one, but the past year in Denver has been difficult without one. Will has been gracious enough to let me use his car when I needed to get somewhere, but relying on someone for a ride all the time isn't fun. So Friday, I finally did it. I bought a car. It's a cute little 2004 Volkswagen Jetta, and I love it dearly. So dearly that I promise never to let bubbles within a 20 foot radius of it. And probably not Kelly, either. At least, not in the driver's seat. :)