Like everyone else, Laura had certain goals that she wanted to reach in life. Like most of us, she missed out on a few of them, but she did manage to hit a few before she passed. For example, she wanted to be a homeowner and she ended up owning two in her lifetime. She wanted to have a boat, and we had a couple of them between 2000 and 2002. She, of course, hit a major life milestone in 1995 that transformed her forever – those of you who know her know what I am referring to. Once she got into guitars, she had to have a Les Paul Goldtop and she eventually got that as well.
However, there was one goal that was of special importance to her – one that she would never achieve. The first few years that we were together were hard years financially. Between 1992 and 2002, we had lived in seven states, countless cities and even more house, apartments, condos and even motel rooms. Those were the bad times. There were times where we didn’t know where we would be living from one week to the next. Things calmed down after the initial rough start, but we still walked away from a few places still owing money.
Once Laura found her way back to Virginia, she started working for her mom in real estate, which gave her the stability she needed. After we got back together at the end of 2002, she was doing well enough that she took the plunge into home ownership in 2003 with the help of her mother, buying a condo in the Ghent section of Norfolk. Then, she renovated that condo, sold it for more than she paid for it, paid her mother back, and bought the condo that she I lived in until her death (and I still live in, even if only temporarily).
So, she was doing well in real estate and wanted her wheels to represent that. When we got back together, her first vehicles were a Jeep Wrangler and a Volkswagen Jetta. Before selling the Norfolk condo, she had upped her game to a BMW M3.
Once we moved Virginia Beach, she traded in the M3 for a newer model, but still wasn’t satiated – there was still one more plum to pick. Sometime in 2007, she achieved her dream, which was to have a Porsche 911 Carrera.
She got it the way she wanted – black with red leather interior and red brakes. Surprisingly, she never got a ticket the two years she owned (actually leased) her Porsche. She would take me and her family and friends out for long drives, finding S curves and cloverleafs that let her put the car through its paces.
ome of the best drives we ever had were the drives we took to the appropriately named Driver, a town in southeastern Virginia that was under development, had a lot long, winding roads and little traffic enforcement. She also got to drive the Porsche on a racetrack located in Western Virginia, which she numbered as some of the best days in life.
As with most things, she terminated the lease after two years about the same time the real estate bubble burst. Unfortunately, I was never able to get us to the point where she could have another Porsche, but at least she achieved that goal. I know there are better photos of her and her cars, but I’m not sure where they are. These will have to do.
The Journalism Gypsy 