EXCLUSIVE: Here is the 1986 Toyota Supra!
I was in eighth grade and she was a senior. She was using me, and I knew it, grudgingly admitted it, because I helped her with math homework almost every day, and I was enough of a nerd to not be any serious threat to her real social group, but also not such a tremendous outcast that she’d be socially demerited just for hanging out with me. That and I was an eighth-grader, with all the non-privilege that entailed in her world.
But I still I hoped to myself that at some level I was at least her friend, and those times she fleetingly held my hand in the hallway or napped with her head on my shoulder in the student lounge meant something, even if something so small as her wanting to gain some leverage against her boyfriend. Matt.
Matt was like Chad, Brad, and Tyler, all rolled into one Matt, and he had one just like this. A 1989 Supra Turbo. He wore rope bracelets and played lacrosse and his father appeared on personal injury attorney billboards above I-95. Damn it, Matt.
I had no hope of challenging him for his woman. That much I knew. But I held out some sliver of hope that when I was a senior like Matt, I would at least have some modicum of his level of social credibility, and drive a Supra like his.
Life takes us in surprising directions — I never got a Supra, I don’t know what ever happened to Matt, much less to the object of my salty, sticky love — but this car is a four-wheeled mnemonic to the memories.