Automotive Experiences, 3rd part – Coming back to Brazil.

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As soon as Collor was taken off the charge of presidency and his economical plan was finally expunged of the national economic policy, we felt secure to come back to Brazil.

Despite the life quality we were having in Italy, there weren’t many expectations to grow and, after all, our country was and has always been Brazil. That’ss why my parents didn’t have to think twice about coming back when things started to settle here..

My mom could take her job back because the permission was still available. My father got a temporary job in a research taken by SEADE (A state-funded Institution for economical researches), thanks to a friend from college times. Years later I had a two-year internship there also.

Meanwhile, both of them started to study for a new test that would allow them to take a better position on the public sector. And our car was a blue Gol, quite old. And this car gave us tons of pain in the ass.

Our lucky was that our house was located on a hill and every time the Gol (aka Goleta) needed to be pushed so it could start, the hill played a big role for us.


The Goleta was really similar to this one, but way more destroyed. I remember the blue colour was precisely that one. It was made in 1983.

But it didn’t last much, though. My father got so pissed of always parking the car backwards, so it would be easy to push it down the hill, that he decided to sell that piece of junk and got a better one.

The “better one” was a 1990 Ford Verona, the colour was beyond any possible definition. Then we entered a VIP club of the 90’s car’s owners. We were giving a step forward to our lives standart.

I remember that car quite well. So well that I can even remember the car plate: YY-2937. And we were already in 1994.


The Verona was quite similar to that one. Two-door, kinda silver, kinda golden, kinda whatever.

With the Verona in our garage, my parents were aproved at the same test they were studying for and got a new job working for the state government. The office wasn’t in São Paulo, but in Taubaté, a city located more or less 130 km away from where we were living. And for half a year they had to go back and fourth daily to work.

In 1995 I was about to turn 8 and we found a little house in the even smaller town of Tremembé, 10km away from Taubaté. A “cul-de-sac” (I had to google it to find the proper translation for it. In english is “dead end” street) street in the very end of the countryside town that had less than 35 thousand inhabitants at that time. Indeed, the street was completely out of traffic and I had the chance to grow up playing street games.

And that was how I grew up. It was 1995 and I only left that little street 10 years later, when I had to come back to São Paulo for college.

Back to the Verona, she (Verona is a woman’s name) didn’t last too much either. In 1996 my parents were seeking to buy a house. Our rented one was too small and quite old. In the end of the same street there was an abandoned unfinished house. My parents made a deal and gave the car as part of the payment. So long undefined-colour Verona!

The next car was an old pal my father loved, a Belina again. But this one was newer one than the one lost in the accident with the police beetle. It was a Belina Del Rey, 1988, metallic blue (if there’s such colour in english). Large comfy car that stayed with us for a couple of years.


In 1997 we moved to our new house. Even deep down the end of the cul-de-sac street, the house was surrounded by trees and grass. No houses or neighbors close by. It was so calm and quiet that I was woken up by the cows, frogs and dogs fighting. Boy, the dogs of my street were fighting a lot.

Talking about dogs, Giulinha – that can be seen on the first part of the post – was already 8 years old. The previous year she gave birth to 12 puppies. We took one for us, Peter.

Peter loved the new house. A huge garden and a gate with holes big enough for him to create his own technique to sneak in to the street. And we, living in the end of a dead end street on a 35 thousand inhabitants town, never really worried about keeping him inside. Actually we tried, but failed. Every time we heard the gate bouncing, we knew he was jumping to his freedom.

He was a strong dog. Beyond his size, he was really strong. He wasn’t even a year old, at the old house, and he got a very deadly disease called Parvoviruses and somehow managed to survive. In the next year, at the new house, he had a quite dumb habit of jumping in front of the car when my parents were arriving home or whenever we left the house for a while. He knew how to recognize the engine sound (or as we were the only ones who reached the end of the street, he could recognize it was us) and jumped the fence to meet us.


He and his god-please-give-me-something-I’m-starving-to-death face.

But one of these times, he jumped and stumbled. My father couldn’t break – or didn’t even notice he got stuck in front of the car – and ran him over. I remember hearing his whinning from the living room and left the house desperate to see what was going on. The Belina had crushed him over but, luckily, none of the wheels had hit him.

He got a broken leg and a concussion. And there he was at the Vet’s again, Dr Ingrid, that called us the next day begging us to take him away, because he was bringing chaos to her office. That little guy, even dizzy and with a broken leg, still wanted to fight the other dogs.

After this trauma with the Belina, my father got a new car. a Fiat Tipo mpi 1996, the only Tipo produced in Brazil. Bye Belina, hello Tipo.

It was our first 4-doors car. Finally! Freedom! Better late than never!



The colour wasn’t this light blue like in the picture. It was a dark green. And it was a nice car, I must admit. It had plenty of room for my 10-years old kid’s legs, that was growing everyday. And a Pioneer radio. It was the best radio ever.

I remember to go down the stairs every night, get in the car and listen to the radio. The radio stations from São Paulo couldn’t reach the regular radios, but the radio on the Tipo could. I used to listen to 89 FM, the rock radio. There I was introduced to many rock bands like Pearl Jam (specially Do the Evolution, Soldier of Love and Last Kiss – these last two from an album made for the refugees in Kosovo). I also became a fan of comedians “Sobrinhos do Ataíde”.

With that car we made our first countrywide trip. We went to Maceió for the new year’s eve of 1997.

Besides the car managed the travel quite well, it was starting to devaluate and my father decided to change cars again in 1999. This time was a 1997 green Ford Escort.

From there on I will tell in the next part. This one is big enough.




One thought on “Automotive Experiences, 3rd part – Coming back to Brazil.

  1. Pingback: Experiências automobilísticas, parte 3 – A volta ao Brasil. | O Leste num Lada

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