We had no assigned topics, just "write a blog." Iona wrote this piece, , and then she passed it on to me and I wrote the piece below, and then I passed my piece on to Giles, who did another rewrite. Part III coming on Friday.
Lust Automobilia
OK, I admit it. The first time I had sex with a girl it took place in the back of a car. I know, I know, it’s tragic and cliched and far from romantic. But take it from me, when you’re both teenagers, and you’re both queer (obviously) and one of you isn’t out and you live in different cities… well, there just aren’t many options. So, it was the back of the car, parked on a deserted road somewhere on the periphery of Hamilton.
She was incredibly shy, and I was scared I would break her. She wouldn’t say anything, and I had no idea if she was enjoying the procedure or not. She sounded sort of desperate, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but she sounded more desperate if I stopped, so I decided I should keep going. And I did, for what seemed like an eternity, and I’m still not sure if she enjoyed any of it, because she still seems incapable of managing to string more than three words together.
I miss the car more than the girl. My Mitsubishi Mirage. Faithful, practical, dependable, white for safety… OK, so my dad chose the car. Back then I was almost completely financially dependent on my parents. I was starting to have mental health problems and I was struggling in school, so my parents didn’t want me to get a job. I worked a few hours a week for Trade Aid, but that wasn’t paid. So yeah, they bought the car, and most of the time they paid for the petrol. We lived out in the wops, about 20 minutes drive from the next teenager. My parents made it clear that once I turned 15 they would stop driving me around. I had to learn to drive, or spend the rest of my life stranded on a lifestyle block surrounded by sheep farms and pine trees. I learnt to drive.
Most of the time I was fairly practical and reliable in my safe white car. I was usually the sober driver at parties. Because my friends were scattered around the greater Rotorua district sometimes it took me a couple of hours to drop everyone off. I miss having such a good excuse not to drink. I give in to peer pressure very easily. Just one, eh? Yeah, right.
I only got a speeding ticket once. I was on my way to a friend’s house on his birthday, with a chocolate cake cooling on the back seat, and I was daydreaming, following the car in front of me. (I knew the camera was there, it was a permanent one, which made me feel even more stupid). Having a car was very convenient for cake transportation. These days I tend to pile all my vegan cakes into a taxi for Ecoaction fundraisers, and then feel guilty about the petrol, the expense…
We had two prangs. Once someone backed into me for no apparent reason. The other time I rolled into a lamppost. I don’t know how that happened, I was probably listening to Kim Hill or otherwise distracted. Both times I broke a headlight. (I don’t miss how expensive car lights are).
Oh, and then there was the time I stopped at the top of our (very steep) driveway to check the mail. I waved at a neighbour who was walking past with her dog. Got out of the car. Watched in horror as it started to roll down the drive, over the edge of the bank, gathering speed and heading towards the sheer drop down to the stream. Then, the wheels started to sink into the soft earth, and she slowed and stopped. The neighbour turned around and waved, and she didn’t seem to think it was odd that there was no car where moments before there had been a white mirage. I collected the mail and drove the car back to the house. I was too embarrassed to tell my parents what had happened, and they didn’t notice the tire marks leading over the bank.
But other than that, my Mitsy and I were completely dependable and safe together. I trusted her. She could keep secrets. The stash of candy in the glove box. The scalpel blades and the bottles of pills, just in case… the praise and worship tapes I kept hidden under the seat so I could play them when no one else was in the car. The girls and boys I kissed and touched, discarding innocence and leaving a tangle of clothes strewn across the backseat. Yeah, she was good to me, my Mitsy.
Posted by Fionnaigh at March 25, 2003 12:41 AM