Our Two Cents: The First Car We Rode In
As you will soon see, I picked this question for this Our Two Cents episode for a personal, almost selfish reason. The motivation is unique to me, but many of us recall the first vehicle that took us down the road for the first time. Odds are it was the vehicle that drove you home from the hospital as a newborn. If so, that’s also a moment that non-car people can wax nostalgically about, no matter what.
I was hoping my co-workers here at Hagerty Media felt the same tinge of nostalgia, and would share the first vehicle they ever went for a ride in. Luckily they did, and you don’t want to miss out on this list.
Volvo 140
‘Considering the rest of my parents’ fairly odd car history (in grade school, I was most frequently driven to piano lessons sitting in a Lada Niva seat bolted into the back of a SIII Land Rover), my first ride home was in pure 1970s norm-core: a 1974 Volvo 140. The second of two Volvos my parents bought upon officially emigrating from Northern Ireland, it was at least fitted with the manual transmission and was painted crockpot yellow. Dad says the 122s were highly regarded for their toughness in rural Norn Iron, the whole durable Swedish tractor image that made Volvo a hit in rallying.
Not entirely practical as it was a coupe, the 140 was eventually exchanged for a Westfalia. In the photo, I am making the exact same face I do whenever I notice that the deadline for something has snuck up unnoticed and is now due tomorrow.” —Brendan McAleer
Ford Mustang
“Came home in a Mustang, I believe. The first car I really remember riding in was the rumble seat of a Model A, owned by my great Uncle Russ.” —Todd Kraemer
Volvo 240
“I wish I could say it was my dad’s ’64 Mini Cooper S, but my first trip home from the hospital was in my mom’s 1987 Volvo 240 station wagon, dark red over tan vinyl. Since I was a 12-pound newborn (C-section) the Mini might not have made it home, and a box truck might have been a better choice than the 240.
But that Volvo served our family for a quarter-million miles before we replaced it with…another Volvo wagon.” —Andrew Newton
1953 Ford
“My parents swore that there was no way I could remember that car, but I do: A blue, 1953 Ford, which they owned for the first couple of years of my life, before trading it for a 1955 Chevrolet. Impossible or not, I could describe the style and color of that Ford. I always noticed cars, but I honestly didn’t notice much else.” —Steven Cole Smith
Jeep Cherokee
“A white Jeep Cherokee. I’m the third of three kids in my family, and my parents traded in the Toyota Corolla that served my mom so well for the Jeep since three car seats in a Corolla was not going to go well. The Jeep served valiantly until a dustbuster Oldsmobile replaced it, which was around the time I got my first car: A red Power Wheels Wrangler.
The universe has told me I was supposed to be a Jeep person, I ignored that call and have not owned one since. Maybe one day.” —Kyle Smith
1986 Acura Legend
“A brown 1986 Acura Legend. Would have been cool if my parents had chosen the ’50s Willys wagon my dad inherited from his grandfather, but the Acura was undoubtedly safer … and, of course, it allows me to say that my ride home was legendary.
My dad kept that Acura for a while: I remember waiting for it to pull into the driveway, when he’d return home for the weekends between consulting trips. Once we heard the engine shut off and the door open, my siblings and I would race to see who could get to him first for a hug.” —Grace Houghton
VW Camper
“I came home from the hospital in a 1972 Volkswagen camper van. My parents owned it for several years, and we made our first big camping trip out west in it for a couple months when I was 2. My parents slept on the bed in the rear and my sister and I shared the little cot that dropped down over the front seats.
I don’t have many memories of that van, but I do know my dad had to scrunch down beneath us as we slept in order to move it one night. Seems safe.” —Stefan Lombard
1973 Chevelle Malibu
“I came home in my Mom’s blue ’73 Malibu. It just had the 307 and was pretty basic transportation, but she loved that car and drove it everywhere. It finally quit one day when we were on a trip to Ohio to see family. The ’84 Buick Skyhawk that replaced it was a poor substitute.” – Eddy Eckart
1975 Mercury Montego MX
The car that took yours truly home from the hospital was my Mom’s 1975 Mercury Montego MX. My parents had two Montegos at the time (this and a 1970 MX coupe) so we called this the “Yellow Car” and the other was the “Green Car.” After nine years and 100,000 miles on the road, the Yellow Car was deemed unreliable for a busy family. Much like Eddy’s experience, the low-mileage 1981 Chevrolet Monte Carlo that replaced it was a poor choice, mostly due to the Chevy (not Buick) 3.8-liter V-6 engine.
Our local mechanic took the Yellow Car on consignment with an asking price of $800. My memory is vague, but I do remember seeing it parked there when I was riding high in the school bus, telling everyone that’s “my Yellow Car.” I really wanted to keep it in the backyard and use it has a playhouse, but my parents and older brother shot that idea down pretty quickly.
Then one day in 1984 I stopped seeing the Yellow Car from the school bus window. I never saw another yellow 1974-76 Montego sedan ever again. Well, until now.
The Yellow Car was with me until I was about seven years old, so I remember a fair bit about it: curvaceous fender contours, bumpers big enough to lie down on, black vinyl seats that burned me in the summertime, and even that dead plate in the dashboard where an optional clock could have resided. I most fondly remembered the nonsensical ornamentation on the turn signals. I couldn’t stop touching it as a kid, absolutely fascinated by all those lines and curves.
And that turn signal was the first thing I went for on the “new” Yellow Car, meeting me 40 years after the last one left my life. This car’s story started back in 2021, when my friend in Virginia shared a recently unearthed barn find he was interested in purchasing. It was listed as a 1974 Mercury Montego MX Brougham, but it’s actually an MX Brougham Custom, Mercury’s answer to cars like the Buick Regal sedan (i.e. the top line Century.)
Once I saw the Custom’s color matched wheel covers and velour interior in his photos, I was hooked. I told my friend something to the effect of, “Dude, you don’t know what you found, that’s the ‘Yellow Car’…and that’s the highest trim level!”
My friend does fantastic restorations on unloved vehicles, and his work on the “new” Yellow Car didn’t disappoint. When the time came to sell, I did the deal and shipped it to Houston. There’ll be more to come about me and the Yellow Car here at Hagerty, but for now, thank you for reading our collective trip down memory lane.
Thanks to Brendan McAleer for motivating me to make this story into a reality.
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1960 Ventura here.
57 Chev 210 wagon. Black with yellow coves and top. Barely remember the first time I could reach the door handle. Was replaced by white/black 60 Nomad with houndstooth cloth. Then on to Buicks….
Never asked what I came home from the hospital in, and my parents are both long gone, so I’ll never know – but the first one I remember, and the first one I was in an accident in – was a 1950 Chevy Turtleback Fleetline. The story was told that I would often stand in the front seat (different times) and tell my dad, “Crash over there!”, which he obviously thought was a bad idea. My dad drove with hand controls, and thus didn’t go very fast. One day, right after I gave him my usual challenge, someone failed to yield and Dad t-boned the other car, sending me right into the dashboard. The resulting black eye and dent in that metal dash apparently cured me of wanting the old man to crash. I’d had my fill. I also remember having to ride in the back seat a lot after that day!
My parents had a Sunbug based on verbal history, but I have no recollection of it. My mother also had an Opel Kadett wagon (which I do remember vaguely). Odds are that it was one of them.
Can’t say that I remember it, but I believe my first ride home form the hospital was in an Austin A40. It would have been an RHD model but that’s normal in Scotland.
Both my parents have passed away, and I never asked them, so I don’t know. It was probably the 1953 Ford my father had before my parents married, or the 1954 Ford my mother had before they married. They sold one of them at some point after they married, and I don’t know which one they kept. The first car I remember was my father’s 1957 Ford Fairlane. A bootlegger in an adjoining county had ordered it, but the “revenuers” caught him before he could take delivery. It had the 312 ci engine, three speed manual transmission with overdrive, and a tinted rear window. It was VERY fast. After my father sold it, two local shade-tree mechanical genius brothers bought it, and did some things to the engine that Ford never envisioned. They ruled the local street-racing scene for several years.
I don’t remember my 1st ride but I suspect it was in my Dads ’41 Plymouth sedan. I have pictures of it when I was a baby. Both my kids came home in my ’51 Buick woodie wagon! Still have the car with a lot of family memories since they were born.
My first car ride was when Dad picked up my Mom and I in his Studabaker the year and model I do not know, Mom hated that car with a passion.she hoped it would get stolen, Dad got rid of that car and bought another used car a Nash.
’49 Ford, which was replaced by a used ’53 Packard Clipper which my mom sold for $50 after my dad passed in 1964. I loved that Packard.
I vaguely remember being told that my parents owned a Studebaker back then, but they probably still had the Model A Ford they bought after Papa came home from Germany. The first car I remember riding in was the 1950 Ford Custom that my father bought new. He sold that in 1958. Years later, I caught a ride in one and was amazed at how narrow the front seat was. I had no idea that cars shrink as they get older.
Not sure what I was brought home from the hospital in. I have a photo of my Dad and the de Soto he had when he was in the Navy. He got out in ’53 and I showed up in ’58, so he may have still had it then. The first car I specifically remember was a white 1960 Falcon wagon with red vinyl interior. Dad had gotten his job with Ford at the glass plant (Nashville) by then and this was his first ever new car. Dad retired from Ford after 30 years… Yes, I was raised that the distributor should be on the front of your V8 like the big guy upstairs wants us to have. (15426378, baby!)
1967 Chevelle Super Sport.
327 with a ‘glide.
I came home from the hospital in a 1949 Oldsmobile Rocket 88. I don’t remember the car, it was replaced with a 1957 Chevrolet 4 door in two tone blue. I remember the ’57, first car I loved. My husband came home from the hospital in a 1949 Buick Roadmaster, all Fireball straight 8 and Dynaflow. The Buick stayed in his family and we own it today.
1956 (?) DKW Universal station wagon. 3 cylinder, 2 stroke, FWD, suicide doors. My dad was a bit eccentric, and appreciated German engineering. DKWs were innovative for their time and had a reputation for being well-built & reliable. (later merged into AUDI) Dad once pointed out to me that it was not a good idea to use compression braking on a 2-stroke, because you could oil-starve the engine!
1960 Chevy Biscayne 4 door sedan. Sort of a rusty red colour. Straight 6. It left us when I was about 4 years old but I recall it well. Dad sold it after it got sideswiped in front of our house. Hit and run in an era when insurance wouldn’t fix something like that. The Chevy was replaced by a 1966 Cortina that my Dad regretted buying whole heartedly. You cannot put a man who drove Fords and Chevys from the 50s and 60s into a small car with a small 4 cylinder in western Canada in 1968. That little bugger almost took my parents from me one rainy night in ’69 when a drunk in a Dodge ran a stop sign. Mom wore the scars on her leg from the vent knob for the rest of her life. Next car was a 6 cyl Chevy II. Much better.