When Joy Came Home in a Mercury Comet

After graduating from college in December of 1990, I lived in an apartment in Yankton while searching for my first teaching job. By the time spring arrived, I had secured a job in Corsica, South Dakota, known as the home of the Comets. During the summer, I moved back to Ethan to live with my parents, aiming to save money for a down payment on an apartment in my new town. Additionally, I needed to save enough to purchase a new car, since I had been using my parents’ old Chevy Impala instead of having my own vehicle.

I soon found a job working as a salad bar girl at a bustling truck stop. It was an experience unlike any other, filled with quirky characters and unexpected lessons. Surrounded by the constant hum of eighteen wheelers and the colorful personalities of long-haul drivers, I quickly learned that this unique environment came with its own rugged vocabulary – interesting swear words included. While slicing tomatoes and topping salads, I quickly learned that the regulars – rough-around-the-edges truckers and road warriors – had a way with words that was both entertaining and eye-opening. These colorful swear words, peppered through casual conversation, became an unexpected aspect of my education, blending humor with a grittier side of life on the road. Despite the rough language, the job was about more than just eavesdropping on salty banter; it was an opportunity to save money and gain independence.

Towards the end of summer, I found myself growing anxious because I hadn’t saved enough money to purchase a car and make a down payment on an apartment. One particularly sweltering day in July, after finishing work, I arrived home to discover a shining Mercury Comet parked proudly outside my parent’s house. They had bought the car and carefully spiffed it up as a gift for me. The late afternoon sun glinted off the car’s gleaming chrome bumper, casting a sparkle that mirrored the thrill swelling inside me. Every aspect, from the tuned-up motor to the newly waxed deep blue paint, spoke of the many hours of dedication they had poured into it. This vintage vehicle was more than mere transportation; it embodied their unwavering support and the promise of many adventures ahead. Running my hands along the sleek hood, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement, fully aware that the memories of this summer would forever resonate with the soulful roar of that Mercury Comet.

With a mix of excitement and nostalgia, I climbed into my new-to-me Mercury Comet, eager to take her on a maiden voyage around town and through the winding country roads near Ethan. The classic rumble of the engine as I turned the key brought a smile to my face, a reminder of a bygone era when cars were as much about character as they were about transportation. Cruising through familiar streets, heads turned as the vintage silhouette glided by, its gleaming chrome catching the sunlight. Once I left town, the Comet truly came alive as it hugged curves and sailed along open stretches of rural highway lined with golden fields and green pastures. Every mile was a new discovery, and with the windows down, the smell of maturing crops mingled with the car’s vintage aroma, making this inaugural journey an unforgettable celebration of freedom and my parent's generosity.

In the fall I started my new job in Corsica – home of the Comets. When I pulled up to the school for opening meetings, I found a small but amusing coincidence that made the experience even more memorable. After arriving, I parked my trusty Comet right next to a Corsica sedan. It was almost poetic to see my personal Comet parked beside a Corsica, symbolizing the start of a journey aligned not just by name but by purpose. As I stepped into the meeting, the juxtaposition of my car and the Corsica reminded me of the powerful community I was joining, filled with educators who, like comets blazing through the sky, aim to ignite passion and curiosity in their students. That small moment of synchronicity gave me a sense of belonging and excitement for the days ahead.

My Mercury Comet truly proved its durability and reliability, outlasting the time and effort I spent teaching in Corsica, a testament to the car’s sturdy build and timeless charm. I vividly remember driving that comely Comet through the winding streets of Vermillion during my grad school years, the steady hum of the engine becoming a comforting soundtrack to late-night study sessions and early morning classes. Unlike the fleeting nature of my Corsica job, which only lasted three years, the Mercury Comet was a steadfast companion, weathering both literal and figurative storms with ease. Its classic design and dependable performance made every commute feel less like a chore and more like an adventure.

As the years passed, my bond with the Mercury Comet only deepened. It wasn’t just a car — it was a symbol of the journey from uncertainty to confidence, from student to teacher, from a young woman finding her footing to someone ready to face whatever challenges life threw her way. Though my career path eventually led me beyond Corsica to new towns and new vehicles, the Comet remained a cherished memory of those formative years. Even now, whenever I catch a glimpse of its familiar silhouette or hear the faint echo of an old engine, I’m transported back to those summer days in Ethan, the wild truck stop banter, and the proud support of my parents. That Mercury Comet carried me not only along miles of South Dakota roads but also through the early chapters of a life shaped by resilience, spunk, and the unshakable sense that no matter where the road leads, home is where your story begins.