When I was 16, my parents very graciously gave me their 12 year old Volvo 245. It was light blue with a dark blue interior with vinyl seats and a banging stereo (my dad is an audiophile). It had the Virgo wheels with really nice Michelin tires. This was the car I grew up in, so I was naturally in love with it.

I grew up in a very wealthy city and the kids at my school got cars like E46 M3s, Land Rovers, and Mercedes. I was fine with my car, but the other kids decided that it was something that they could try to fuck with. Conversations often ended with, “You drive a Volvo, what do you know?”

One time, some dickmouth decided to he would hit my hood with a hammer right in front of me. Me being 6’4” and a defensive lineman, I took exception to this and he received a thorough asskicking. That wasn’t all though. Because of the cavernous engine bay, kids started to stashing their drugs in my car which resulted in several awkward conversations with the police. Since I didn’t smoke weed (yet), I got off the hook.

That is my story of how people insulted my beloved Volvo.