The summer of 2006 my parents bought a 1987 Toyota Celica GT. I never realized the car was old or dented; all I saw was a reliable method of transportation. I was just 6 years old when we got it and never put any thought into its look. Every 2 years my dad would get deported for DUI’s and no ID. I was always with my caring mother and my little brother. Every time my dad was taken we moved away to a new home. My mom’s job could never support us at the houses we lived at; they were too big. We were always hauled around by the little red Carcacha. Last February my mom was deported and I was urged to find a job. Losing my mom traumatized me, but I had grown used to losing a parent to the legal system. My dad started drinking from losing my mom and couldn’t pull it together. Eventually he got himself arrested because he was walking on the side of the road on the way to work because of his warrants for arrest. Then what was I supposed to do? We were left to our own devices. We found refuge with our grandparents and I was forced to job hunt with urgency. Now I drive my mom’s old car, La Carcacha. Every time I put on my seat belt I am reminded of my mom’s overprotectiveness and my dad’s annoying, redundant warnings. Whenever I drive I remember my mom is always looking out for me and that she loved me. Cherishing how reliable the little car is and how my mom always has supported me. I have been given the teenage dream to get rid of my parents … but I was not ready to run my life and have financial responsibilities. We could have left everything we knew like a crazed lunatic and fend for ourselves. Life keeps on rolling – when will it stop? If we can, we’ll be together again.