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by Mike Furtado
Copyright (c), 2003, My Daily Driver -- All Rights Reserved My first car, my first freedom, my first Plymouth B-body, my first "love" and more firsts associated with that car than I care to list here. The title of this column might be misleading. Not only was this my first Satellite, so far it is also my only Satellite. In that respect, it's first in a line of one. I've got nearly two million miles behind the wheel of something-or-other in the twenty years since I drove my first miles in that '73 Satellite. I've owned six Plymouths in that same twenty years, two of them B-bodies. That Satellite will always have the distinction of being first in so many ways. I was 12 when Mom bought a "new" used car. My Grandfather, her Dad, was living in sunny Florida and saw this car for sale locally at a good price. It was quite literally owned by a "little old lady from Pasadena", Pasadena Florida that is. The car was five years old but only had a few thousand miles on the odometer. The car was puff inside and out. Grandpa purchased the car on Moms behalf and drove it up to Massachusetts to deliver it. I vaguely remember when we got the car that it didn't mean very much to me. Heck, what was wrong with the old car? Well, this one was much bigger and that was probably a lot of the reason. 
Over the next few years I got to know that car very well. As a teenager, my Mom was almost as much chauffeur as she was cook
and bank. It seemed like I always "had" to be somewhere, "and oh by the way, it costs 10 bucks to get in Mom…" "Pick me up at
9:30" Well, Moms get sick of that routine after a while and that teenager starts thinking about "when I can drive".Now I started paying a little attention to the car. After all, once I had a license, I would need a car to drive. (Ready to kick this spoiled brats ass yet? I am.) By the time I was a few months short of my learners permit, I knew I could drive this thing. How hard could it be? "Mom, can I drive?" "No." "Mom, can I drive?" "No." "Mom, can I drive?" "No." "Mom, can I drive?"... You get the point. Mom took me on a trip to visit friends who lived in northern Maine, a long drive for the "old" Satellite. But the car had served Mom faithfully for the last few years, so there was no concern about the long drive. Several hours into our trip there was something funny going on with the car. Mom said it was losing power. We limped along the rest of the journey and reached our destination. At least the car hadn't left us stranded somewhere. Mom consulted the man of the house about her car problem. He advised her that it was the carburetor and it would need to be rebuilt. A single Mom with a teenager simply never has "extra" money in the budget for such emergencies. Just a weekend trip out of state by car was probably squeezing things a bit already. I declared, "I can rebuild the carburetor!" I was met with some resistance. "What makes you think you can rebuild a carburetor?" "Where did you learn such a thing?" After some discussion, I felt like a hero as I had convinced my Mother that I could fix the car! All I needed was a rebuild kit from the auto parts store, some carb cleaner and a few tools. I didn't let myself think that if she had some other choice, she would certainly have taken it. The following day we made the trip to the parts store and returned to our gracious hosts where I would disassemble our car in their driveway, and rebuild a carburetor in their kitchen. The operation was a complete success and our car was ready for the drive home. The four-hour drive was marked by a single incident, "Mom, can I drive?" "OK <sigh>..." 
Within minutes of getting behind that wheel I knew a few things about life that I hadn't previously. I would in fact be able
to do this with a little practice; it wasn't that hard after all. I knew how much I would love to drive and have the freedom
that goes with it. Mom informed me that when I got my drivers license, the Satellite would be mine! That car never looked the
same to me again. It looked like "mine".I drove the Satellite for a mere eight months. And turned the odometer a mere 43,000 miles! The only time I wasn't driving my car was when I was sleeping or pumping gas. I went as far as I could go, and on every road I could find. And my Satellite brought me yet another first, a cars final trip to the bone yard. I didn't understand the impact of heavy-duty usage on a 10-year-old car. I think I changed the oil twice. I didn't know there was transmission fluid to check. I didn't know you should'nt drive 75 miles down the highway at wide-open throttle and then turn around and do it again. 
Today I know a fair bit about cars. And I know that Satellite took more abuse than most cars could stand. And I know I miss
my first… Anyone have a plain-jane '73 Satellite for sale?
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