When the dismissal bell rings at Fishers High School, the sound that really turns heads is not the shrill tone of the intercom, it is the chorus of engines rumbling across the student parking lot. From the deep growl of muscle cars to the cheerful sputter of old hand-me-downs, every vehicle parked outside carries a story, a history, and a hint of its owner’s personality.
The parking lot is not just asphalt; it is a social hub, a morning ritual, and sometimes, a competitive sport. It is where students line up early to claim their favorite spots, admire each other’s rides, or just talk about the next weekend meet-up.
For senior Mikaela Ecker, the story begins with a rumble. Her mom’s 1981 Z28 Camaro is more than a car; it is a statement. It is sleek, stubborn, and unapologetically loud.
“In Camaro, it does not have a radio or stereo,” Ecker said, “Do you know the movie, Christine? I’d say probably something like that. It’s a bit finicky at times, but a lot of the time it looks good. It runs well.”
Beyond driving, students like Ecker have built a small community around their cars, sharing advice, comparing engines, or just showing up at local car shows for fun. Certain spots in the school lot have even become unofficially “claimed,” proof that the morning parking routine has its own unspoken hierarchy.
“I’d say there are definitely some people with designated spots,” Ecker said. “Chloe gets here and she always manages to park in one spot. My friend Vicky and her boyfriend get here around the same time, and they park in the back, right next to each other, before that section fills.”
On the opposite side of the lot sits something a little smaller, a little brighter, and a lot more sentimental. Senior Michaela Jordan drives a 2002 Volkswagen Beetle, a hand-me-down from her sister that she lovingly named The Blue Beetle, after the DC superhero.
“It’s cute,” Jordan said. “I don’t really know what I could possibly say because there’s actually more wrong with it than there is good, but it’s unique. And I think that’s good enough. It’s actually just called the Blue Beetle because it’s based off the DC superhero.”
Her car’s charm lies in its imperfections: the flowers glued to the dashboard, the hand-me-down keys that once belonged to her sister, the hum of an engine that sounds both tired and determined.
“One of my favorite memories was one of the first times I took my friend Maddie out in it,” Jordan recalled. “We went to our friend’s graduation party, and I snuck them all out of the house to go get ice cream. It was very fun.”
Cars at Fishers High School reflect more than transportation. They also represent personality, freedom, and the little traditions that define student life. But those traditions shift over time.
“The big one by the CCA, that used to be senior parking.” Jordan said. “They were probably trying to make it more fair, but it’s honestly really unfair for seniors because we had an expectation that we would be able to park there with no problem. But now some of my friends can’t even get good parking spots because they have to be at school later than most.”
For some, their car is about pride and horsepower. For others, their car is about memories, convenience, or simply having a ride that works.
Some people would trade anything for a new set of wheels, but not Jordan. “[Instead of a new car, I’d want] no homework for a year, honestly because you can dream about a car all you want and that could eventually happen, but the idea that you’ll never have homework is impossible, basically because teachers, they love their homework.”
From muscle to modest, from dream cars to daily drives, the student body’s vehicles mirror their individuality, friendships, and everyday experiences.
In the end, it does not matter whether the engine purrs or sputters. What matters is the freedom it brings, the memories made inside, and the sound of laughter echoing from rolled-down windows as another school day begins. The story of high school car culture is still hitting the road.
