My Car's Stories

My Cars' Stories

These are some of the cars I have owned and operated over the years. There were others during my Detroit frenzy period but I do not remember them clearly. Well, hey, some guys are studs, but I was a car person. (Down deep I still am but don't tell my wife.)

A 1953 Chevy was the first car I drove much by myself. I was 14.

It was not much to start with (on the left), so my cousin painted it candy apple red (on the right). It still was not much.

It was also the first car in which I had an accident. Late at night following a rather interesting party, I was being a good boy by driving myself home because everyone else was too sleepy (and that's my story and I am sticking to it), I was turning into my driveway at home. I got hit very hard in the right rear by a car traveling near 90 mph. The Chevy is like a tank and even though I was knocked into a ditch, only my bumper was bent. The other car did a 360 off the road, knocking down four mailboxes then flipped three times landing on its top. As luck would have it, the car's occupants were four high school girls, drunk far beyond the point of standing straight. They were not hurt (some how) and I did not get into trouble.

Mustang

At the age of 15 the car I drove most was my mother's 1965 Mustang, the first pony-car. It was yellow with tan interior and the girls just LOVED it. In this car I passed the 100 mph mark for the first time with an under-aged female setting beside me saying Faster, Faster. Remember that Vikki?

And, I had an accident in this one also. Again, late at night, going home the long route, no moon for light, traveling at a reasonable rate down a country black top road (and that's my story and I am sticking to it), up jumped a BLACK cow! On a dark night, on a black road, a black cow is hard to see. Without touching the brakes I hit it broadside. The cow was knocked 50 feet down the road and the Mustang's hood wrapped over the roof and its motor came to rest beside me in the driver's compartment. I was not hurt, the cow was not killed, but the Mustang found greener pastures.

At the age of 16 I got a brand new 1968 Chevelle 396. This was a pony car, fast and loud. It was purple with black interior. In this car I learned how to 'drag race' and race I did, almost every weekend. (Well, I have never said I was a smart teenager.) This car was special. It was the only one to survive two of my accidents.

The first was following a private little party with friends. Remember that Vikki? I was driving home again late at night on a curvy black top road and decided to play Thunder Road.

You may remember the movie by that name staring Robert Mitchem playing a mountain bootlegger who drove a fast car. In any case, I took a 25 mph curve a little fast (at about 85) and left the road cutting down pine trees.

My right front caught a pot hole and my left rear hit gravel. It was clearly the fault of the county road department. (that's my story and I am sticking to it) Some how I drove between two oak trees that would have stopped me and came to stop 300 yards later with a lot of broken pine in my grill.

The second accident that finished off the Chevelle was my first during the day and the only one I ever had with a passenger. On an overcast and rainy Sunday afternoon, following just a wee bit of peach wine (and that's my story and I am sticking to it), my friend Norman and I decided to leave the parking lot in a manner that the girls would notice. Norman and I were just 17 and trying to impress them. Of course anyone knows, who is thinking clearly, that you can not push a pony car with over 375 hp and 400 pounds of torque on a wet road. Norman grinned and say to me, Shit, go on and kick it. Being one who tries to please, I did.

My rpm's hit 5k, the car did two 360's (it was about this time when I heard Norman say SSSSHH-IIIIITTTTT!!! ), clipped off a fire hydrant, flipped upside down, and fell 30 feet down an embankment onto its roof. You know, a Chevelle has a strong room. Norman and I were not hurt. We crawled out of the car, through the hole where the front windshield use to be, and Norman raced up the embankment. I set at the bottom next to my broken chariot. Some man came running up to Norman at the top of the hit shouting, What Happened? What Happened? Norman, just as cool as always, replied, I don't really know. I just got here. It looks like some crazy guy just ran off down that hill. Norman and I really were good friends, even after I almost killed him.

It was not reasonable but I was still allowed to drive. At 18 I went to college driving a new 1969 GTO. It was again a pony car with a 400 cu in engine with a competition straight shift. It was snow white with bright red interior. Yep, it was fast. Very late one night a friend of mine in college went out to the interstate perimeter. He was in a Vette and I in the GTO.

GTO

Driving side by side on the expressway we planned to see how fast the GTO would go. We found the top end to be 143 mph. Guess what, I did not wreck this car and I had it all the way through college. My hormones must have settled down by that time because there were no more major accidents.

Out of college, with a job and money, my love affair for the Corvette began. At 22 I bought my first one, a 1973 blue Vette with black seats. It was a fine car and lead me to the next.

At 23 I bought the finest car I have ever owned. It was a new 1975 white Vette with tan leather seating. This car was a dream and even now I do not understand why I let it go.

One spring for a vacation I drove out West to see the country, and show off the Vette like in the TV show Route 66. In the Grand Tetons, with snow still beside the road, I was hit from behind by a VW van. Remember that Rise? The Vette was not hurt, nor us, but the impact knocked my class ring off my hand and into the snow and I did not find it. I finished the trip then four months later a lady called me from Miami. Turns out that she had stopped at the same location where I had been bumped and found a class ring from G.T. She came back home, call the G.T. Alumni association, and using the inscription of the ring located me in Atlanta. I got the ring back but sold the Vette.

At the ripe old age of 25, I purchased a white Bricklin. The was one of the exotic cars with doors that were power driven and lift up. It had a 351 Cleveland wedge engine and cornered like a Formula One race car.

It was the fastest top-end car I ever drove. I never found out how fast it would go but I remember drive from Birmingham to Atlanta, 130 miles, in one hour and five minutes and never noticed that I was speeding.

The Bricklin had one problem, it leaked. Whenever it would rain, somehow water always got into the car. I am not talking about dampness. I am talking about enough water to cause waves in the floorboard. Electric doors and a lot a water do not mix. On more that one occasion the water would short out the battery that operates the doors and I would have to call out the trunk to get out of the car. Needless to say that wasn't fun for very long.

fiat

At 27 for a change I got a Fiat Spider. This was fun little car. It was so small that one day I went to visit a friend and drove into his living room through double doors before I parked. I told him I thought it was going to rain and I didn't want to put up the convertible top. So that night we put snacks on the trunk and hood and the punch bowl into the front seat. Dual purpose car.

67 vette

The Fiat was fun but the call of power still had me. So a year later at 28 I bought a 68 Vette, 427 ci, L-88. It was pure power off the starting line. When it was just idling the ground would shake from the motor's lick. When I would open the headers exhaust flames would go almost to the rear axle. No lie, popping the clutch in second would pull the front-end off the ground. This was a mean car which required a lot of maintenance. It was the last of my youth cars, so far.

Finally, at the age of 30, I grew up. At that time I had a company car, a VW Jetta. The next car I purchased was a new 1982 Cutlass Salon. The Cutlass was my dating car and the one I had when I met my wife to be. Following marriage, stability took over and I had a Mercury and then an Olds 98, which I still drive today.

What's next? Well hang in there readers.

Maybe it will be a

CSX4000?

maybe

Series 1?

Sean voted for the CSX4000.
Meredith voted for for the Series 1.
Becky voted for a Grand Piano.

So,

It will probably be more like:

model T

Now, that is not all of my youthful foolishness. I haven't told you about my motor cycles, my sailboat, about blue water sailing, or taking flying lessons. I'll save that for another story. In the mean time, here are two of the bikes I once owned and loved but no longer can ride.

Harley-Davidson Sportster XLH

Moto Guzzi 850 TT

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