Gary Rinsem

My First Car

That car was the CenterPoint of my existence for two critical years. I could do nothing without it, including have a love life or a sex life. Not so much about the car, this chapter is about how it changed my life, a biography of a short period in my life. (2021 NOTE: This has been waiting 45 years for me to finish it. I wish I had, I wish I could. I'm posting it now with the hope that it will motivate me to at least copy the relevant parts from other journals)

I clearly recall my first day driving to school. I pulled in the parking lot early to get a space close to the entrance of the 100 building. Before the bell rang I'd run into several girls waiting to know if I got the car. We went out and looked at it. My "old lady car" failed to impress anyone. I laughed, they didn't understand what they were looking at, not yet. I knew at first sight of that beautiful front seat. I had plans for that car. It wasn't really a car, the car was just a wrapper for a sex seat.

You can use this picture as the definition of "Old Lady Car"

This is the usual fare for an LTD Brougham. A very comfy ride, but it aint no sex seat

Thirty years later the internet was getting big enough to have any content you'd want. I found a web page by a man who did the design for a test run of 1971 Ford LTDs. My car was clearly one of them, built with a level of trim much higher than usual. He said the seat was for a Lincoln Town Car and the most expensive part of the car. It was still called a "LTD Brougham" but the interior trim was far more plush. Outside it only had one difference, a unique emblem on the grill. I looked for a couple decades and never saw another one with the interior or the emblem. There were several seats used, even buckets, but mine was the only one I saw with a sex seat and extra plush upholstery. Reminiscing now, I find hundreds of pictures and none like mine. They have one of two crappy bench seat options. Those were old lady cars. The reclining passenger side of that 60/40 front seat, 60% passenger and 40% driver, laid out as flat as a luxurious bed, with the headrest on the rear seat. It was wide and soft with plush fabric intended for a Town Car. After first period one of the girls was waiting for me. A look told me her thoughts and we ditched second period, spending some time parked in an isolated spot near school. My seat, errr, car... was christened. Lunch was a repeat. A different girl wanted to christen my "old lady car." I didn't have the heart to say she missed her chance a couple hours earlier. She probably still thinks it was her honor. I'd had plenty of two girl days and a couple three girl days, but by last period I was set for my first four girl day. Third and fourth were a date to give one girl a ride home from school, with a stop in a secluded location so she could try out the seat, plus a late date after work that night with the fourth. It's good to be a 16 year old boy with a car. Instead of bothering my father late at night for a ride home after work, and waiting for him in a cold dark parking lot, I was knocking on a girl's bedroom window at her invitation to sex. Those first four memories of sex in my own car are burned into my mind, as if they'd happened today. It's the start of a decade where cars were my identity because they got me sex and independence. Throughout high school I worked minimum wage jobs in restaurants to pay for my car. I liked working, but hated how it took what could have been time for girls. Saturday came and my seat was still warm from Friday night. On my only day off work, I was excited by the second capability of my first car, transportation. I'd been waiting a year and a half for this day. I took a course called 'Power Technology' my freshman year. Other kids struggled while it was second nature for me. I had a natural understanding that surprised and excited me, and the teacher. Mr. Bruner smiled uncontrollably. He was a dedicated teacher who encouraged me to find more to study than just a basic high school class. I busted ass Saturday morning to finish chores, early enough to be waiting when the library door was unlocked. Two years waiting was over, detailed books about electrical generating stations were in my immediate future. Frustrated with the search, I found a hot young librarian to ask for help. Disappointment was devastating when my sexy new friend told me the Scottsdale Public Library had nothing for me. I whined about how important it was and she showed pity, suggesting Noble Library at ASU in Tempe. Days earlier it was an impossible journey, but I had a car now. I wasn't a 'little' kid anymore. My librarian friend assured me I'd have no trouble, didn't need to be an ASU student except to check out books. I could sign up for any frivolous free class to solve that issue, with a student ID. She drew a basic map in my notebook to get me from parking lot to library. At bottom was her name and phone number. As I left she suggested I return to give her a ride home that afternoon. Surprised as hell, I asked her age. She was seventeen and already going to college. A really smart and gorgeous girl wanted me... Off to my first day at Noble Library with plans for an evening of sex with a new girl. A terrific first Saturday was provided by my new car. For nine months until I met my first love, each Saturday was spent deeply involved with a couple hundred books, covering every detail of power plant design, operation and maintenance. I couldn't possibly get enough. I did as suggested, got a student ID with no intent of going to a class. All of my time was now split between four demands instead of three. Girls, school, work and Noble Library... together they consumed every moment that I wasn't sleeping. For nine months, January through September 1975, I was one seriously happy active guy. I never had a moment of free time. In addition to constant sluty'nes in my front seat, I discovered a whole car culture existing in the school parking lot, a culture that few kids without a car were aware of. In retrospect a few years later, I realized I hadn't spent much time doing 'stuff' with close friends, I'd only had a few and we usually just hung out talking. This was to be a turning point in my life. Many of the lessons learned with Chris and Sharon didn't come into play until the 80s, when I was in the Navy. Having many close friends who were much more than just friends, I finally understood and applied what I learned in high school. On my first day at school with a car, I noticed a 1955 Ford station wagon. The oldest car in the lot, it seemed like a true antique at 20 years old. That was the perspective of a 16 year old. I felt envious of the boy who drove that. At the end of my third day with a car, I had no 'ride home date' and got to the parking lot to find my best friend Lon parked nearby. The 55 station wagon was parked nose to nose with my LTD, two girls were sitting in the front seat watching as Lon and I talked by the drivers door of my car. I recognized the passenger as one of the most beautiful girls in school. I was more than just in lust, her naked body floated around in my mind for hours after every time I saw her. It made me uncomfortable when the driver got out and stood in front of my car, staring at Lon and I. She told me the story a month or so later, about the plan they were hatching then. After I drove away from our talk at school, the driver of the 55 approached Lon. She invited him to her house that evening and told him to bring me along. He knew her casually, I think they shared a class. Naive as a kid could possibly be, Lon was overly exited at the invitation. He'd driven past her house numerous times waiting for date time. Now, Lon was afraid I'd ruin things by not wanting to go. She told him to bring me, he had to do it. His description of their conversation sounded as though she was using my best friend to get to me. There wasn't a way to tell him that so I got in his car. Lon had a 'cool boy' car, a 71 Chevrolet Chevelle. He parked in front of her house where I met the girl, her name is Chris. She told me what I'd been wanting to know since beginning of that school year, the girl of my lust was Sharon. It seemed innocuous enough, but that introduction turned out to be an important event in my life. I had many casual friendships, but I'd only had three true friends, kids important to me for an extended time. They were my best friend Lon and two girls on my street. The girls since third grade and Lon since fourth. The two girls became casual intimate relationships at the start of eight grade, which resulted in the end of our friendship near the end of that school year. It was tragic. The trauma of it continued until end of junior year, three years later. Chris and Sharon were instant friends, the center of my school parking lot life. I split my very limited free time between girls I only knew for sex, and my new female friends. It excited me to have made friends, and only friends, with two new girls. It seemed whenever I went to the parking lot they were there with a fun plan. It would be something that would ALMOST get us in trouble. They liked testing the limits to see how much we could get away with, but they weren't 'bad girls.' Chris and Sharon had my respect because their fun never really hurt anything. I went along with whatever, unless it involved alcohol, then they were on their own. They always had one thing in the front of their minds, sex. They wanted it. Sex was their reason for starting a friendship with me. It was their plan the day they waited for me in Chris's car, parked in front of mine. I knew it immediately and no matter how much I lusted for Sharon, I wanted friends even more. Not certain why, but I've always thought they were both virgins, maybe they told me. Sex with a girl meant no chance of friendship from my experience. For the first month I gently avoided their subtle advances, letting them know with equal subtlety that it wasn't happening. Chris got tired of the game first and asked why not. I told her the truth. In modern terms, I had enough benefits and wanted friends. She accepted it. Saturday afternoon Sharon called asking me to her house, she wanted to hang out. I parked on the street and rattled her window. Sitting on the hood, I watched Sharon bounce down the driveway. Appearing excited and full of energy, I quickly realized she was just blind stinkin drunk. Sharon sat close, pressed against me on the hood of my car. Subtle at first, but direct when I didn't cooperate. Sharon became irate and verbally abusive at the realization... that I was never going to have sex with her. Standing in the street in front of my car, she yelled obscene names at me. Ending a long tirade Sharon said she'd never speak to me again. I drove away crying, having just lost my two new friends of only a month. They were a pair, lose one lose the other fer sure. I accepted it by school on Monday, expecting no joy from them. Sharon ran up excited to see me as if nothing happened. I realized she was so drunk she didn't even remember Saturday. Chris and Sharon were far more important to me than I was to them. I knew it then and confirmed it recently. Both were impossible to find with different last names, but in May 2020 I stumbled across them on the internet. Chris didn't respond to my Facebook message and Sharon required much conversation on the phone, before remembering me only by a description of my car. Her voice and speech are a little unusual and haven't changed a bit. I got flashbacks to calls with her in the 70s. She's still a drunk party girl. Since hanging with Chris and Sharon, I've been unable to look at a fountain without hearing... Don Ho and Lawrence Welk singing tiny bubbles. One Saturday afternoon a big group of us were looking for cheap entertainment. It was three cars with a bunch of kids packed in. Chris suggested it, hers were always the ideas we acted on. As a mob we assaulted Basha's grocery store, each buying a giant bottle of dish soap. At the fountain on the SW corner of Scottsdale Road and Lincoln Drive we found the pump suction and squirted in every bottle of dish soap as fast as we could. Sitting on the wall by the fountain we watched as the tiny bubbles quickly built into a huge mass. Overflowing the fountain those bubbles attacked Scottsdale Road like the movie The Blob. We watched till the fun was over as cars hit the bubbles, going off like an explosion of dynamite. In the following months we repeated the fun at other fountains. Somebody worked at a hotel on Scottsdale Road and told us they were replacing outdated fire extinguishers, the big chrome pressurized tanks of water that did nothing to fight fires. They all had modern chemical extinguishers installed nearby with the old about to be discarded. It was Chris's idea and she had yet to make it clear what she had in mind, but five cars full of kids ran around the outside of those buildings, grabbing fire extinguishers and running for the parking lot. We used them for a lunchtime game, passenger trying to spray another player's windshield while driving around the neighborhood. One Saturday afternoon the doorbell rang while I was fixing lunch for myself and little brother. Jamie answered it. I knew the door opened when I heard two girls voices screaming. I recognized them and their state of intoxication. They screamed repeatedly "Gary get out here, we're gonna rape you." I declined their invitation to go tubing down the river because they just wanted to get drunk and have sex. I wanted no part if it. They were back now, and extremely drunk. I headed out of the kitchen toward the entry as Chris and Sharon burst into the house. We met in the laundry room where they both jumped me at the same time. I was driven to the floor like a piano had been dropped on me. Chris and Sharon, too drunk to think straight, were on top of me and trying to pull my pants off without unbuckling them. It kinda hurt and caused bruises, but I was laughing so hard I didn't notice. What I noticed was my massively uncooperative little brother, insanely screaming the same words over and over. "I'm telling mom I'm telling mom I'm telling mom" in an endless loop as loud and as fast as possible. He had his feet planted in the middle of the three of us piled on the laundry room floor. Jamie was always like that. Realizing there was something wrong with my little brother, Chris and Sharon gave up on "rape" and ran for the door. I followed and we talked in the driveway. Jamie stood five feet away in his endless loop of "I'm telling mom" as loud and fast as possible. Hours later he ran to tell her as soon as she came home. Riding with Chris one day, she went to the drive thru at Valley National Bank. As she pulled out a truck came around the outside of the drive thru and hit the 55 wagon. Not much damage and she was nice, let him go with no names exchanged. I thought it was terrible, her car now had a dented right front fender. It made no difference, Chris wrecked it soon after. At lunch sitting in my car, a kid on the CB radio said Chris wrecked her car. I rushed to the scene where Chris and a few other girls were frantically trying to figure out what to do. Chris ran toward my car screaming "open your trunk open your trunk." Chris tossed in a cooler of beer and a second one brought by the other girls. Closing my trunk, Chris repeatedly screamed "go go go go" to get me to leave. I took off with her passengers in my car. I dropped those girls at school and returned, sitting across the street to watch Chris deal with cops, and to give her a ride when done. This has hardly touched on all the things we did together in the first half of 1975. After the wreck the fun was very limited and forced, but we were still friends. A man I worked with had his car stolen. It turned up in Seal Beach California, taken by police from a kid way too young to drive. I agreed to drive him to Seal Beach to get his car. The old lady wrapper for my sex seat, was actually a muscle car land yacht. Below you'll find a picture of the speedometer showing 120 on the far right side. I often had the needle beyond that point. Sailing my yacht along I-10 through the California desert, flashing lights appeared in my mirror. The lights were a long way back with no chance of catching me, but I couldn't outrun Motorola so I slowed down and pulled over when he got close. I found out their radar only went to 120. He gave me a ticket for 120+ and four more tickets because he didn't think I should be laughing about it. One was for driving without shoes. A mile down the road those tickets littered the highway. They had no way back then to do anything about it, I lived out of state. With Chris and Sharon taking little of my time, I was free to make better use of my reclining front seat. Day and night I kept it busy. I liked being a slut and having my own place to be me. One day, I parked on the street to find my sister and father in the driveway, talking about her VW Beetle sitting there. Anything involving Sister Suzy was important to me. This time it sucked. Sue's almost-a-car needed repair and she'd come looking for help from family. Dad suggested and I agreed without hesitation, that Sue should borrow my car and I'd limp her car around until it was repaired. I didn't mind the sacrifice for my sister, but it was instant end to my sex life. Sue's car was fixed fast. In mid summer 1975, a woman at work was acting friendly in a way I'd only expect from girls my age. I was slow to catch on because she was OLD by my 16 year old outlook. She was 27, but didn't seem so old naked. I wore a tuxedo and served alcohol at work, plus she'd seen me in my old lady car. Forgive her, she believed I was much older and dumped me the instant she was told I was 16. Well over 40, the other waitresses really were old to me so I'd never noticed this one, until one night... They wore costumes intended to be reminiscent of 1880s saloon girls. Short red dresses with black stockings. My girl, it turns out, wore no panties because she liked the feeling of the stockings on her... so, this night she was bent over in the side station, picking up something when I passed through. Little space to pass, my crotch bumped against her goodies, exposed out the rear as she bent over. I was in a hurry and didn't notice except for her surprised reaction, later graphically telling me how my tuxedo pants felt against her nearly naked... and thinking I did it deliberately. She was hot for me before, but this put her over the top, telling me later what she had done immediately after it happened. She called her roommate to say she had a ride home, don't come get me. By the way, roommate is a euphemism. As a coworker I automatically felt some degree of responsibility toward her, so agreed to give her a ride home. I was in for an awakening at their apartment. Still naive, still oblivious, I stopped in the parking lot expecting her to get out. Instead, she asked if I was "coming in?" That phrase tore the blinders off and for the first time I noticed her push-up bra cleavage. It didn't take long to park and get inside the apartment. I'd never been with anyone older and... She was in a very quiet, very loving relationship with her roommate. The two of them explained, they liked live sex toys and hoped I wouldn't mind... the words "It's time for school" make me smile still, since they were spoken that night by the girlfriend. She was serious. They got excited by "teaching" a man the ways of girls. I was a dedicated student for several months. One night at work she got frisky and we were seen by the wrong person. A lady who'd known me since I was very young, she felt protective of me over what she'd witnessed. She told my lady I was only 16. The next, and last words she said to me were "how old are you?" I knew the fun was done when I said 16... It was now the start of my junior year of high school and eight months of my first car. Life was grand and I had no idea there was anything missing. My front seat got almost daily use. I was the class slut according to many girls, and happy with the label they intended as insult. In my wallet was a list of 30 girls I could expect to get horny on a regular basis. Each line was a number a name and phone number. I had to remember where each of them lived. Not an easy task and I sometimes got it wrong when giving them rides home from school. The number before the name was increased by one after each encounter. It seemed important to always know how many times, with each girl. First on the list was the fourth girl in my sex life. The first three were long gone. The first twelve girls had been my steadies for three years, since beginning eighth grade. Number four lost her mind at some point, spending the last twenty-two years of her life insanely stalking and harassing me. With thirty girls on the list I turned down anyone else, even being a bit rude to run off any girl who seemed interested in me. Driving up Beeline Highway at 120+ there was a terrible noise and the engine quit. I hitch hiked the rest of the way to Saguaro lake where my family was. My dad drove us back to the valley where we got a tow bar and brought my car home. The engine was destroyed, needed a new one. Junk yard engine was $300, close to four hundred when installed, if I did it myself. Saving money and no sex seat, my life came to an instant stop. I worked every minute they'd let me. Without my car I may as well have been back in grade school. I was riding my bike, leftover from start of seventh grade, to get me to a very limited number of places. At least it was a good adult bike. The next part of this is the longest and most detailed memory of my life. It was made important and unforgettable because of what happened that night.
My life begins with these events.
I was feeling sorry for myself, laying in bed all day Saturday. It was my only day off and Noble Library had been beyond my reach, I didn't know I was done with Noble for the next three years. By evening I realized there was precious little time left of my free day. I'd have to wait another week if I didn't act fast. It was the start of junior year. I'd had two years of high school with little free time so never wasted that time on extra curricular stuff. In short, I didn't know what homecoming was. All week it was hyped everywhere at school so I knew it was happening. I knew it involved lots of kids at school at night. With my car down my sex life was a fraction of what it had been. Horney as hell, I saw only one option to end my self pity party. Once the choice was made, I rushed off to the school where I realized that homecoming was a football thing, the noise and lights were coming from the stadium. I cruised the stadium looking for any of the 30 girls who'd likely be up for sex in a dark corner of the school. I searched everywhere and recognized nobody. It made me feel like I was at the wrong school. I think homecoming was just the younger kids. I didn't know any of them. Disappointed and about to head for home, I heard my name yelled several times. Looking around, disappointment unbroken, it was a boys voice and I spotted him. It was Brian. He and his younger brother Mark were two of a kind. I was odd and knew it, with no desire to be otherwise, but Brian creeped me out for years acting as if we were close friends. We knew nothing about each other and never did anything together. Brian spent his entire life replacing roofs on houses in the Arizona heat. A life I can't imagine. His brother Mark spams Facebook groups by posting a picture of himself as a holy roller preacher. A serious nut case, he's the only person I've blocked. On homecoming night our junior year, Brian ran up to me and began rapidly talking in his twitchy spastic way. All I ever wanted was for him to leave me alone. He was often impossible to understand and all I got was something about a homecoming dance. More than enough to get my attention. Too irrationally excited to be coherent, somehow I still managed to find out from Brian that the dance was in the cafeteria. My hopes for sex were renewed, expecting to find at least one girl there. I didn't know a life altering event was waiting inside. By telling me about the dance, Brian created the opportunity for the event to occur. I thank him often for something he did only because he's weird. It's one of many small details in my life with a big impact on who I am. I would have gone home, never meeting my first love if not for Brian's need to share his weird excited enthusiasm, for the homecoming dance. Walking across campus there were more kids around than I'd ever seen during a school day. It gave me a strange feeling to see so many kids and recognize absolutely none of them. Worse than at the stadium, it was a creepy sorta feeling I couldn't shake because it didn't occur, that this was new kids, freshman class I'd never been around. The spooky emotion is still fresh forty-five years later. A dense crowd was blocking the cafeteria entrance, it got worse inside the door. At least a hundred kids packed in, I had to squeeze through while still searching faces for any of my girls. (4-7-2021 Note: this is where it's always ended, at the critical moment of falling in love. If you're reading this, then it looks like I still never finished it. Most of My First Car has yet to be added.)