ANDY COMER: Remember your first car?

John Schnatter paid $250,000 for a car.

It isn’t a Ferrari. 

It isn’t a Lamborghini. 

It isn’t even new.

It’s a Chevrolet. A 1971 Camaro, to be precise. 

Schnatter has some money to throw around — he’s the John of Papa John’s Pizza.

This isn’t just any Camaro; this is the first car Schnatter ever had. After a nationwide search/contest held by Papa John’s, the lucky Kentucky owner of the Camaro exchanged the car Wednesday for an easy 250 grand. Personally, I wouldn’t have paid $2.50 for that or any other Chevy.

But Schnatter’s search did get me thinking about my first car, a blue 1991 Ford Probe. Once all of the jokes about the “Probe” model name subsided, it was a pretty cool machine for a teenager in the 1990s. The headlights popped up from the front of the car with a flip of a switch, a la Knight Rider. If you folded the back seats down, there was plenty of room for — um, carrying stuff — and the seat belts operated automatically upon opening or closing the doors. I can still remember the pine-scented smell of the air freshener I dangled from the rear view mirror to try to recapture that new car aroma. I loved that sporty blue Probe, and I was heartbroken when the entire electrical system died, forcing me to get rid of my very first car.

In the decade or so since my Probe’s demise, I sometimes wonder what happened to my flawed Ford. Along with the complete failure of the electronics, the engine block was cracking, too. The car was likely dismantled and used for parts, and even if it wasn’t taken apart then, I doubt a car built in 1991 with more than 100,000 miles on it would still be driving today. There’s almost zero chance I could track down the Probe, and even less of a chance that it even exists.

(Side note: Remember the episode of Home Improvement in which Tim finds his beloved first car in a junk yard, only to see it crushed right before his eyes? I can’t help but think of Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor as I write this.)

 Sadly, my first car is almost certainly a neatly compressed hunk of scrap metal somewhere in an Ohio junk yard. That little blue Probe represented freedom, fun, and a part of my life that I’ll never get back. I took my high school sweetheart to prom in that car, and I’ll never forget driving around my hometown with the music just a little too loud as a carefree teenager. My father even used the Probe to teach me how to change a tire. If someone else did manage to fix and drive the car after I sold it, I hope they enjoyed it as much as I did.

But enough of my sappy memories. I encourage you, dear reader, to respond to this column with accounts of the first car you ever had. Chances are that your vehicle, like my old Probe, has been lost to time. Whatever the case may be, I bet you still remember that car and the way it made you feel. 

Hopefully your first car had a less ridiculous model name than “Probe.”

Andy Comer is the acting slot editor and a columnist for The Monitor. Contact him at acomer@themonitor.com.