Love at First Sight: My Pink SLR Torana

She was my second car. An impulse buy, spotted in a car yard on my way to work one morning. There she was, displayed by the dealer in all her glory. I took her for one test drive and I was smitten. Chromies. Low profile tyres. Four on the floor. Sleek, black interior. Pumping sound system. Six cylinders. She was everything I thought I was. Cool. Striking. Unique.

It made sense that she was mine because anyone who was anyone had cool cars then: Holden Monaros, Ford GTSs, Toyota Celicas, and I wanted one. My first car —  a canary yellow Toyota Corona — was practical, necessary and reliable but it was time to let her go, and I traded her in. From memory, my Torana cost me $3000 and I had to take out a personal loan to buy her. It was worth it and I loved driving her.

My Torana was mostly reliable — apart from the clutch plate and a cracked head gasket that needed repairing and radiator hoses that never seemed to last. It seemed like I was forever buying coolant. Perhaps I should have gotten her checked by a mechanic before I bought her, but like most relationships I had, I just jumped in. In neutral, the engine would purr, and I’d power through the gear changes, the engine unleashing its power. To be sure, it wasn’t a V8 but those six cylinders packed a punch. I would do silly, posturing things like drag other vehicles at the traffic lights, foot on the accelerator, revving the engine.

Late one night, the police knocked on the door of the house I shared with my sister in Prospect. My Torana has been stolen from my driveway by a group of Indigenous youths and had been found in Port Adelaide. They had hot-wired her, jimmying the steering wheel cover to expose the wires and broke the ignition switch. They were pulled over for speeding, and when the registration was checked, it was clear they were not the owners. I was horrified! How dare they steal my beloved Torana! I had a steering wheel lock, but of course I didn’t lock the steering wheel when I was home. Why would I? Home was supposed to be a refuge, safe from invasion. And of course, I felt violated.

A friend installed a kill switch not long after. It was a simple on/off switch tucked behind the console. I just had to turn it on to immobilise the engine. Brilliant, and my Torana was never interfered with again.

I had that car for five years, selling it to my half-sister, for absolutely no good reason other than the fact that I was at university and couldn’t afford to run her, particularly as she was becoming more prone to mechanical issues. If I had my time again and all that.

478 words.

About the #MicroMemoir2025 Challenge

After successfully completing my #12Essays2024 Challenge — by the skin of my teeth, mind you! — I’ve set myself another writing challenge for 2025. This time, my challenge is to write 62 micro memoir pieces this year because I’ll be 62. I’ve done the maths: it’s one piece every five days or so. I got the idea from Deborah Sosin’s post on Brevity, where she wrote about the 70 x 70 word micro memoir pieces she crafted to commemorate/celebrate her 70th birthday. She ended up publishing these pieces as a book. Like Deborah, I enjoy the creative constraints of writing short pieces (and I’ve had some success writing flash fiction). I’ve done a number of Craft Talks workshops on writing micro memoir, but haven’t really written any. So, self, let’s get to it. Challenge accepted, although my word count will be a tad more lenient.

Image Credit: Kustom Pix Photography