"Another date that lives in infamy…. for me."
March 8, 1993. I can remember bringing this 1985 Camaro home after signing paperwork at the Notary Public. It was a cool car. Heck, even the license plate was cool: AHH-8125. "Ahhhhh" says it all! I was 17…a mere 10 days away from my birthday. On March 18th I would become an adult, but it was on March 8th that I became a man, a car-owning man.
Throughout my teens, I saved every penny I earned mowing lawns and working at the local Radio-Controlled Car Racetrack to get my own car. After inquiring about the cost of insurance a 17-year-old could expect to pay, I discovered that there wouldn't be much of a savings by purchasing a plain ‘ol Cavalier. So, my search turned to Camaro. I found an '85 V6 car for sale. The asking price was way more than I could afford, but I was able negotiate. I talked the lady down to $2,500 despite barely having $1,900 to my name. The next step was talking mom into loaning me the balance.
We went to show her the car and hopefully finalize the deal. As we walked toward the car, down the driveway, my mother started telling stories of how she found her Camaro in the showroom and how she really wanted a Corvette, but they were twice the price. Then when she opened the door, it made a very familiar F-body creak. She was sold. I got the extra funds I needed and picked up "Old Blue" ten days before my 18th birthday.
This wasn’t a special car by any means. It was a 1985 Sport Coupe, which meant 2.8 Liter V6, cloth interior, basic radio, but it was a Camaro, and it was mine. I can still remember the ‘growl’ of that V6 and the noisy vibration from a loose catalytic converter. It wore chromed American Racing Wagon Wheels with faux spinners that were installed by the previous owner, wrapped in Goodyear Eagle STs. I drove the wheels off that car from High School graduation, thru four years at Penn State to the first few months of my very first job in radio. At that point I was logging over 75 miles each way to and from work and I was worried “Old Blue” didn’t have much left. So, in September of 1998, I parted ways with my first love…ah, um car…trading it in on a brand new Z24 Cavalier that would better serve me as a long-distance commuter.