Nostalgia for a Beater Car

by Christina Rentz

Just before Christmas in 2004, I totaled the car that my parents gave me for making straight A’s in high school. It was a 1994 Toyota Celica and I loved it. I would probably still be driving it if not for the deer that ran across my path in the dark on a four lane highway. The airbag deployed and I thought my car was about to explode. I cried on the phone when I asked the junkyard to tow my car away when I was at work so I didn’t have to watch it go. I arrived home to $100 cash “for parts” under my doormat. I was 24 years old and it was time to solve the first truly adult problem I had ever faced: buying a car.

I had to have a car. I was working two jobs — publicity and waitressing — and the jobs were 30 minutes apart. I took the day off of work, rented a car for one day, and set out bright and early to get the job done.

I went to the big, shiny Toyota dealership with the obnoxious TV commercials. They had a used Corolla with cigarette burns in the backseat that they wanted what I considered way too much money for. They insisted I take it for an unaccompanied test drive so I went to Target and bought wrapping paper and gummy bears. I sat in the car and cried in the parking lot as my dad barked advice at me that I didn’t understand. I went in to return the keys and the scary man from the TV commercials yelled at everyone that he didn’t want to “that pretty little girl cry” and to make me a deal!

I ran away vowing never to return and I still get PTSD sometimes when those commercials come on.

I dried my tears and went to a tiny car dealership I had never noticed before. The salesman’s name was Kelly. I loved him immediately, because he was respectful and left me alone. He tossed me the keys to a Honda Civic that smelled like dude and then he showed me a Toyota Echo. I had never heard of a Toyota Echo but it made me feel tall, which I am not, and zippy, as all tiny cars should.

I told Kelly he had to let me talk him down $1000 so I could feel proud of myself. I actually told him that! So he did, and we had a deal.

As luck would have it, I got my Christmas bonus from my publicity job the next day and I somehow figured out how to get a loan through AAA. The car cost $6000 and my car payment was $188 a month.

The Echo was black with grey interior. It had manual windows and locks, but an automatic transmission. I put the CD player I had rescued from my Celica in it, and it never quite fit in the hole in the dash. My brother joked that it is called an Echo because “it’s too small to make it’s own noise.”

I drove that car to Alexandria, VA every month to visit my boyfriend. When my boyfriend moved back to NC, we drove the Echo with his sweet, smelly dog in the backseat to visit his parents. We drove it to the mountains of GA to meet his Aunt and Uncle a few months before we got engaged. And, the day after we got married, we drove my tiny car to Ocracoke Island for our honeymoon. We were so excited to be done with the wedding stuff, my new husband missed our exit and we circled Raleigh twice, almost missing our ferry. We never had to spend much money on it, and it never broke down. We put Christmas trees on top of it, surf boards out the back window, and later, car seats for two little boys.

In December of 2014, ten years and nearly 100,000 miles later, we tuned up the Echo one last time and sold it to one of our closest friends so she could take it up to Queens and not have to rely on public transportation for trips to Costco and more importantly Spa Castle. We watched her drive away, with one hub cap and a trunk that only opens sometimes, as they embarked on their new adventure.

Christina Rentz lives in Durham, NC with her husband and two sons. She is now the proud owner of a 15 year old hand-me-down “luxury sedan” with a tape deck.

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