The First Car

When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?

The first time I felt like an adult wasn’t marked by a big moment. It was practical and ordinary. It happened when I bought my first car.

I was still living at home and had just started my first full-time job. Until then, I got around by walking, riding my bike, catching public transport, or getting lifts from friends. My father had recently bought a second-hand Jaguar, his pride and joy. I never thought to ask to use it. It was his car, and I wouldn’t have wanted the worry of driving it.

So I bought my own — a second-hand HR Holden station wagon that was about eleven years old. It wasn’t fancy, but it was reliable and it was mine. I bought it just before heading to Melbourne for a month of work training. The timing felt right. I was earning my own money and beginning to make my own decisions.

That car gave me new freedom and responsibility at the same time. It meant I could go camping, go bushwalking, take part in youth leadership, and stay back at work if I needed to. It opened up new possibilities, not because it changed who I was, but because it made more things possible.

Looking back, adulthood didn’t arrive the day I bought the car. It came later, in quieter ways — filling the tank, paying the registration, deciding where to go.

That was the first time I felt like an adult — not through anything dramatic, but through something steady and real.

Daily writing prompt

When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?

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