3. I've always had brown cars.
When I turned 16 my parents gave me my Grandmom's old car, a 1987 Chevy Caprice, the Boat. It was dark dark brown; I liked to say it was maroon. The interior was awesomely maroon, and when a family friend broke my radio, my sister and I made a concerted effort to memorize music we both liked so we could sing it in the car. I always gave the quiet neighbor girl a ride to school, and Jackie and I would sing songs from Moulin Rouge and Chicago to her (or at her). When the Boat died my parent's came upon (from where I don't know) a poopy brown Zepher. It was the worst car ever and I hated it, the end. Then one day my Daddy bought the Ford. A dark tan Explorer, with fancy leather seats and a fully functioning CD player/radio. It was a major step up but still brown. While I was in college my dad sold it. In high school my friends and I joked that I would eventually get a white car because, though always brown, my cars got progressively lighter. When I moved to MN and knew I was going to buy a car, I looked forward to getting a not brown car. Instead of getting a not brown car, I got a gold car, which is just a fancy way of saying brown.