I walked, ran, or rode a bike through my first two years of college. The only car I owned was an ’85 Buick Skylark I bought the summer of my junior year for $1,500 on a payment plan from Greg Proctor. It served as both a means of flight and a last shackle around my ankle. On my first road trip from Murray to Louisville I found that the car was a lemon, leaking both coolant and brake fluid, needing new wiring, and costing me more in repairs than I made that summer at my job as a camp counselor. Soon I began deliberately missing payments. He sent me letters threatening to sue. Wayne Martin offered to pay him for the car, but Greg Proctor wouldn’t accept payment from him. I drove the car back to Kansas at the end of the summer, and didn’t own a car again until the end of the Nineties.
Just added to The List and the Story: Out of the Nineties