In Honor of Campbell

My first job was like most firsts: a series of exciting, nerve-wracking, sweaty-palmed moments that challenged my intellect, self-esteem, and sense of self.  When I started my first job, I had no money in the bank, no place of my own, and no car.

Until... [insert dreamy music]... Campbell.  Campbell made me feel independent. Sporty. Professional. "Arrived."

Campbell was my first car, a 1991 Plymouth Colt and a sweet ride.  He was sporty red, a fine zippy little compact car that threw me with abandon onto the Mass. Turnpike in the morning and showered me with tunes during the evening commute home down Route 9, when I was feeling adventurous. He took me into Boston on the weekend, and around the state, with amazing fuel economy and eager, childlike attempts at acceleration (V-4, baby!).

He carried me and my friends to concerts, bars and special events, and was home to my first kiss with my now-husband (and that's all I can say about that, eager readers).  If Campbell could talk, he'd have tales to tell... that would sell for no more than $49.99 to the tabloids. 

Now I drive a silver 2005 Toyota Sienna minivan. It's practical, adventurous, efficient, and has lots of junk in the trunk... just like her owner.  Anyone know a good dealership for crossovers?

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