Well, it used to be red. The “car” I am referring to is a Toyota Corolla model 1979 that was the first my dad ever bought for the family. It was bright red and really spiffy looking back then.
By today’s standards, it is small for a sedan but not as eensy-weensy as the compact models sold in the market. This car holds a lot of sentiment not only for me but my two sisters as well. Aside from the fact that we went on a lot of family trips on board this vehicle, it was with this little red car that we all learned to drive.
No, dad did not actually teach us. In fact, his only condition in allowing us to drive when we turned 18 was that we had to attend driving school. That was five consecutive one hour sessions. Learn we did and with a student license on hand, he allowed us to practice with the little red car so we could eventually get our driver’s license.
Because of its size, the car is easy to maneuver, never mind that it was way before the advent of power-steering. It was fuel efficient and unlike most cars manufactured nowadays, its body was sturdy and built to last.
I have first-hand experience as to its durability because the one and only bad vehicular accident I was involved in was aboard the little red car. I swear it wasn’t my fault because the other car came from a side street that did not allow crossing the intersection where we crashed into each other. Little red car’s hood was badly damaged and had to be taken in for repairs for about two to three weeks. When we got it back, it was as good as new.
At around the time I was covering President Aquino, dad had gotten a second car and so I was allowed to use the red one, especially if coverage was early in the morning or it would extend until late at night. My journalist friends and I had a lot of memories with this car because I often ended up driving everyone home after our nightcaps following work. It was privy to a lot of stories and gossip, heartaches and joys.
It was sometime in 1997 when dad decided to sell the red car. My mother’s brother in the province snapped it up because he knew it was still in very good condition despite years of use. After the documentation was in order, he drove it back to the province and has been with him ever since.
The last time I was in Tacloban around eight years ago, it was the vehicle that took us around, not only around the city but all the way to Samar province on one hand and down to Carigara in the opposite direction. We really had a grand tour then, and little red car was our indispensable ride.
I have forgotten about this car until we landed in Tacloban last Saturday for uncle’s burial. Lo and behold — what should be meeting us but little red car! Well, it’s since been repainted with maroon but I’d recognize that car anywhere (it still bears the same license plate, which I knew by heart). Outside, it still looked spiffy. But of course years of use have taken its toll. And because it still serves its primary purpose of getting people from one place to the other, and as is usually the way in the province, uncle has not bothered to fix whatever may be broken or missing inside. You want to roll down the windows in the back, the knob is detached and sitting near the dashboard… The speedometer is shaky at best but it never runs beyond 50 kph anyway. Uncle would not let me drive it because the brakes has quirks in them. They don’t bother to lock the doors anymore because no one seems interested in it.
But in spite its defects now, the little red car still holds a lot of memories for me. It has served us, and served us well. And I know that for as long as it still does the job of taking people around the city, getting from point A to point B and in one piece, I am sure uncle will still be driving that car for more years to come.
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