My first car was a 1984 Bronco II. She had a shiny black paint job and all red interior. Dull red. Used but taken care of. No rips in the interior, no scratches or cracks in the dashboard. You could tell someone loved that old rig before it came to me. I was a Junior in high school and I was so excited that I could drive all my friends around with me at lunch time.

My Bronco deuce has a cool story and a sad ending. Lets just say she was donated to me by my biological father who popped in and out of my life at his own convenience. This gift was I'm sure more to fill the guilt in his heart than to make me happy. However, at 16 that wasn't on my mind. I HAD A CAR! "Let's hit the road!"

Ol' girl needed some love under the hood and my stepdad, Jess told me he would help me fix it up if I did the work with him. Mind you - I was a cheerleader, had a boyfriend, and a social life so that was a big commitment from me. (WHAT A BRAT!) So Jess gathered all the needed supplies and we spent lots of time fixing her up. We ripped out old smog control parts,put on a chrome easy flow air filter, pulled off valve covers and painted them yellow, replaced the thermostat,and flushed the entire cooling system. Jess says we plugged a bunch of the smog hoses with his drill bits because we had nothing else. He laughs now, "When that thing went - so did $100 in drill bits!" Overall, I don't care for pursuing a career in vehicle maintenance but it was a cool experience to do the work ourselves. Gave me a sense of pride when I put the pedal to the floor while it struggled to make it up the hills with all my friends heading to go camping. "I did the work on this myself, don't worry - she runs like a champ."

My Bronco Deuce was the reason I was able to get my first job and my first traffic infraction. I didn't have a license to drive - only a permit which has rules around who can be in the car with said inexperienced driver. Well I piled all my friends in my car and we would cruise the dirt roads around the tiny little hick town I lived in, with one cop. Who we all called Barney Fife.

Barney pulled me over going 45mph in a 20mph zone. He literally asked me if I knew that I didn't have a drivers license. "No sir, I thought I did!" (Insert face palm) Luckily, he had a crush on my mom so he followed me home and let me off with no ticket - or revoking my license!

That Bronco Deuce was responsible for a lot of fun. As soon as I got comfortable with its squirrley steering, I would smash through mud puddles and drive over dirt jumps. We had a hell of a time in that old rig.

Lots of cool memories. The last memory I have of her was when I packed SIX of my friends and all our camping gear and went to disappear in the wilderness for the weekend. On the way down from a very fun weekend, a terrible "ping pang" noise rang throughout the cab. (I found out later that it shot a rod.) My friend said, "That's not good!" The car came to a halting stop. She never drove again.

RIP Bronco Deuce