Your Worst Winter Story: R.I.P., '80s Chevy Cavalier

Most people who drive have fond memories of their first car. That goes for double when you purchase your first brand-new vehicle. And then, the heartbreak sets in when something really bad happens to it. For this installment of Your Worst Winter Story, find out what happens to a Chevy Cavalier that seemed doomed from the start (and be sure to read the hilarious epilogue).

Got a story you'd like to submit? You can send us your tale of winter wackness to [email protected]. Stories that run will be in consideration for a prize at the end of the series.

See also:
Your Worst Winter Story: The Snow Fairy
Your Worst Winter Story: The Hippie Plow
Your Worst Winter Story: Babes at McDonald's
Your Worst Winter Story: Free ride from a cop

Your Worst Winter Story: Lambeau Field and a Drunk Packers fan
Your Worst Winter Story: Release the bowels
Your Worst Winter Story: NYE, missing friends, and party pizzas

Your Worst Winter Story: Shoveling (and falling off of) a roof

The story:

My story starts with the purchase if my first new car. It was October of 1984. I had a job, and decided to buy a new decked-out Chevy Cavalier. It was slick. Red-and-gray color job. Four speed. It was a really great first new car. Little did I know that the winter of 1984-'85 had a bone to pick with my new car.

A week before Thanksgiving, I was driving home with my sister and her fiancé. We were only two miles from our destination. We lived in the country on a farm, and it was over 20 miles to town. It had started to snow, and the roads were slick. I was a little worried that we wouldn't get up the last big hill before we got home, Whitney Hill, so I took it slow and steady.

It wasn't the snow the or the ice that did us in. A doe popped up over the bank, and BANG! it rammed into my front-left fender. The car was still drivable, and the officer let us take the deer home. The venison did not make up for the damage to my new car, which now did not feel so new.

That us not the end to this winter's vendetta on my little car.

In  November, I was running late for a meeting with my manager in a nearby town. It had snowed quite a bit in the last week. The roads were not clear, but not treacherous, either. I was heading down a straight stretch which had fields on both sides of the road, and there also was a little mini hill. When I popped over the top, sitting in the road were four white geese. I panicked. I didn't want to hit the geese, and my natural instinct was to swerve. The car twirled around on the road three times, and it felt like it was moving in slow motion. It kept going and going, so finally I decided to hit the brakes. I ended up in the ditch backwards, with the rear end of my little car going through a fence and hitting another fence. My little car now had another dent and scratches. Luckily, I was okay and so were the geese. In the end, I didn't make it to my meeting.

Then, in February, I was heading into work mid-morning. We had quite a bit if snow, but it was a bright, sunshiny day. On the edge of our farm, there was a sharp corner. I slowed down, and made the turn. Suddenly, there was a huge BANG! and my car was pushed to the side. The roof, the passenger door, and windshield were smashed, but I was one again okay.

A tree had fallen on my little car. Our neighbor, who worked for our township, was cutting down the tree. He was in a deep ditch to the right of the road, and had not seen or heard me coming. Unfortunately, the tree fell the wrong way and dropped on my car.

So, my first new little axe had a smashed front left fender, a dented and scratched rear end, and a smashed roof, door, and windshield.  Believe it or not, the insurance company did not total out the car. It was all finally repaired.

But I will never forget that winter, which made my first new little car not so new.

Epilogue: Two years later, I moved to Dallas, and the car got hit really bad with major hail damage. A week after the hail storm, the car was stolen. The cops asked if it had any unique identifying marks. I said yes, as it had about 40 three-inch hail marks all over it, plus a cracked windshield. They eventually found the car near the Louisiana border. If had been torched. My first new little car was no more.

Obviously, it was hexed from the beginning.

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