Memories of the Worst Vehicle I Ever Owned by Terri Rimmer - originally published by Associated Content, 2010

I've owned a lot of cars, some standing out more than others.

After owning a 1974 VW Super Beetle, 1983 Ford Escort, and a Ford Maverick, I got sold by an ex-con used car salesman on a Subaru station wagon, though I can't recall the year of the car.

It was silver with gray interior and at first it seemed great, even through having to pull over on the side of the road in the pouring rain on the way to an awards ceremony, along with a bunch of other motorists who couldn't see to drive either.

I guess it was karma, the fact that I sold my bad Maverick to an old man and his daughter or granddaughter to get part of the money for this Subaru, desperate for another car due to steep repairs I couldn't afford.

I had just lost my newspaper job when I decided to hop in my newly bought Subaru and haul ass to the annual Florida Press Association Society of Professional Journalists' Awards Ceremony where I was to pick up a prize for news story in the circulation division of 5,000 to 11,999 category. Even though I just got let go a few days before that, I was determined to pick up that award and it never occurred to me that just because I won this honor, the higher-ups didn't want to see me at the event.

No matter. I wrote a check for my ritzy stay in the luxurious Walt Disney World Dolphin Hotel, complete with circular lit up driveway and fancy valets to park my old Subaru which I convinced myself was the lap of luxury though it was most certainly a gas guzzler.

I would only be staying for one night and didn't even get to enjoy the hotel much except for a brief tanning at the pool the next morning before dashing off to the awards ceremony.

Much to my surprise and to my arrogance and grandiosity, I was not the only one receiving such award and as my visions of an acceptance speech amid popping flashbulbs went up in smoke, I was directed to a corner of the room following the slideshow of nominees where several other people were picking up the same honor of "Honorable Mention" in the news story category.

On top of that, my boss' daughter, who was editor of one of the newspapers that oversaw operations at the publication I worked for, had already intercepted my award and was determined not to give it to me since I no longer worked there. Or, as she put it, "All the awards are the possession of the company and we hang them on the walls of the office."

I stood patiently and did my best calm routine but in my head I was screaming, "This is bull----!"

She finally relented after playing with my head a little and said reluctantly, "Well, I guess you can have it," handing it over to me.

Another little adventure in the Subaru came months later when I was excitedly on my way to see U2 for the first time with my boyfriend who lived out of town.

As I raced down the highway in the dark, my car had other plans and abruptly slowed to a halt in the pitch black darkness toward Tampa, FL. I had no cell phone then, no money, no luck.

So I did what any single woman would do with no other resources.

I got out and started walking, praying the whole time that I wouldn't get picked up by some mass murderer.

I didn't have to walk far before a Transam screeched to a halt and waited for me to catch up.

Having turned down a couple of cars already due to terror, I peeked in the passenger window, expecting to see some Hell's Angels taking a break from their bikes.

Instead I saw an elderly couple that looked like they just stepped out of a Geritol commercial, greeting me with a smile.

"Need a ride?" the grandfatherly type asked and I hesitantly got in.

Luckily the gas station wasn't far but the repair shop within the facility was closed this late though the mechanic was still on the clock working behind the counter in the store.

As though reading my mind, the driver gave me two handfuls of coins to make the call on the pay phone to my boyfriend and the couple even stayed with me to make sure he was on the way before leaving.

Two to four hours of waiting while talking to the mechanic, drinking a soda, and eating some crackers, my boyfriend showed up to rescue me from the Subaru.

I had to leave it there and get it towed for repairs.

But that's a whole '˜nother" story in my saga of cars.