Prove your humanity


Kendall Langrell | Staff Writer

Contrary to popular belief, “out with the new, in with the old” is not a concept that hipsters are bringing back. It’s a mindset that is passed from parent to child through generations.

It’s Tuesday night, Valentine’s day, and I’m at Legends eating dinner with my parents and roommate. We’re passing the time discussing vague topics, everyone ignoring the fact that we were dateless and having dinner with my parents.

But in moviesque “scratch-the-needle-off-the-record” fashion, my dad had to tip my world on it’s axis.

Dad said, “By the way, on March 5th some guys from Australia are stopping by to take a look at the cars … they might want to buy them.”

There are so many different avenues I could take with that sentence. What do you mean Australians? What do they want with our cars and which cars? Back to the main question running through my head … Australians?

These Australians are interested in buying all three of our vintage cars; the problem: the third one is my world.

It’s the car that holds many childhood memories near and dear to my heart. It’s the car my dad and I bought when I was in second grade for a measly $250. It’s the car that I wormed my way under to pass my dad the wrong tools while he worked on restoring it.

It’s our 1966 Mustang. I’ve ~appropriately~ named him Spirit.

Growing up, my family always favored the old over the new. My sister and I are the fourth generation to grow up in the house my great grandparents built. My parents instilled in us a love for classic rock rather than new pop. But my dad taught me the best lesson of all; buying old and restoring over time is a lot more rewarding than buying new.

But it was always my dream to own Spirit and to drive it everyday to the places I needed to be. There was a time when I begged my dad for the mustang as my first car, for my dream to come true. Family friends even attempted to talk my dad into giving me the mustang.

And then the dream came true.

I owned it by verbal consent for two treasured months until it was deemed “unfinished” and returned to the garage. But that was okay, I was 16 and my dream could still become a reality in time.

Fast forward nearly five years later. My black 1999 beetle is currently falling apart. My roommates cringe everytime I drive us somewhere and the passenger door handle comes off when they try to close the door, or the times when I shouted “DON’T TOUCH THAT BUTTON!” because the windows don’t roll down, or when I was stranded after work because my car wouldn’t start due to an alarm system shortage thinking the doors were still locked when I was clearly sitting in the driver’s seat.

My point is: I love the car I have, but it’s time it be laid to rest.

After my car began to fall apart, I had a decision to make. Do I save up money to buy a flashy new car or do I work hard to make my dream become a reality once and for all?

Well, the thing about life is we are served curveballs sometimes. I wish I had the answers to my last questions so that I could include them here and have the perfectly satisfying conclusion.

But I don’t have an answer. I don’t know if I should buy new or restore old because a couple Australians are throwing a wrench into my plans.

Whether they want to buy all three cars, two cars, just the mustang or have no interest in any, I learned something about myself. I would rather put in the time and effort to create something from the ground up, like my dad and I did, than drive out of a dealership with a car I just laid eyes on that day.

With the possibility that my greatest dream will be taken from me forever, I know with my whole heart that I will forever choose the old over new.