When you are given the name Ford, as my oldest son was when he was born 17 years ago, you can expect certain things in your life: Onsies with the Ford emblem on them. Every Matchbox car that looks like an F-150. Ford T-shirts, sweatshirts, hats and socks. And every variation of “Built Ford Tough” comments. You can also expect, when you’re old enough to buy your first car, that it will be a Ford.
We named my son Ford because the Ford Motor Company has played a large role in both my family and my husband’s. Both my dad and my husband’s grandfather, Henry, had been fans of Fords since, well, since the beginning of time, or, at least, since Henry Smiley was a Ford mechanic in Maine in the 1920s.
My dad’s first car was a 1967 Mustang, and it had been in my parents’ garage in various states of repair my entire childhood. He still has it today. My parents’ garage is also filled with Genuine Ford Parts signs, and I knew, from a young age, that I’d likely own a Ford, too. In my family, you especially wanted to drive a Ford if you expected dad to work on it instead of sending it to a garage and spending money.
And I did drive a Ford Bronco II for a long time. Eventually, however, when I became a mother and caved to the minivan or was seduced by Volvos (OK, dad said, because it had a Ford engine), it felt a bit traitorous.
Good thing my first offspring carried the name Ford.
Despite what some people guess, the name hasn’t caused Ford many problems, even though it’s left his younger brothers to deal with people constantly asking, “So what’s your name, Chevy?” Eventually, Ford’s younger brother, Owen, 15, gave in to this ribbing and started wearing a Chevy hat every time Ford wore his with the Ford emblem on it.
All jokes aside, however, any child of mine who had been in my dad’s garage, no matter their name or choice of hat, knew they were probably going to drive a Ford.
Last week, Ford, who works part-time at a grocery store after school, had finally saved enough money to buy his first car. While his youngest brother, Lindell, 11, was taking every gifted dollar to the convenience store to buy Mike & Ikes, Ford was quietly stashing away his paychecks and all his birthday and Christmas money and putting it into a growing savings account. There was a Ford Edge in his price range (which wasn’t much) he had his eye on at a local, trusted garage, and he wanted to go see it after school.
I’m sure you can imagine the smile on Ford’s face when he came out of school that day, the day he was going to buy his first car. He had his money ready, and he couldn’t wait to have his own set of wheels.
The Edge, however, had sold just a few hours before school let out. This was unexpected and unfortunate news for Ford. What was left on the lot in Ford’s price range was a Mazda and a Chevy. Could Ford really drive a Chevy? I know there is more to consider when buying a used car — my dad already had the Mazda up on the lift and was checking for rust — but when your name is “Ford,” this is a serious consideration.
Both cars were equally good mechanically, according to my dad, but the Chevy was nicer on the inside. The interior was nearly brand-new, and it had a better radio and air conditioner.
But … but it was a Chevy. And the driver would be a Ford. And up to this point, Ford’s name had only caused his little brothers hassle when people called them Chevy or Dodge. How many times would people make jokes if Ford was driving a Chevy?
Ultimately, I learned that interiors mean very little to a 17-year-old boy. The car could have green carpet, and Ford wouldn’t care. He just wanted to drive, and the Mazda had a manual transmission, which makes it practically like driving NASCAR.
Ford bought the Mazda.
When we got home, he sat in his new used car to read the manual. Then he cleaned the interior, the windows, the wheels and the outside. It’s not a perfect car, and it’s not a Ford, but it’s his car, and he bought it himself. There is nothing that compares to that.
After he drove off that night, headed to work in his “new” car, my youngest son patted me on the shoulder and said, “Your boy has become a man.”
It’s true. There are some things you never get over as a mother. Watching your child drive off in his own car is one of them. But there are some things in life you never forget, too, and one of them is hitting the road in a car you bought yourself.
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