My first car was an old Ford that didn't have a motor. Or a transmission. I bought it with the money I had saved from my allowance. I had it towed to a place a block from my home. My father found out about it and hit the roof. What was I thinking? What was I going to do with it? HAD I ASKED PERMISSION? I don't know, I don't know, No …
My second car was a '53 Chevy Bel Air convertible. This one was in great shape with the exception of the transmission which was blown. I bought it for $50 of my paper route money. My sister's boyfriend was eager to make points so he helped me find a replacement transmission in a junk yard and helped me install it. I kept it parked down the block and only drove it when nobody was looking.
When my father found out about it he hit the roof. What was I thinking? What was I going to do with it? HAD I ASKED PERMISSION? I don't know, I don't know, No … Experience told me that he wasn't going to say yes under any circumstances so it was up to me to go pirate if I wanted a car.
Did I mention that I didn't have a license? My father thought that if he withheld the license it would keep me from driving. Just the opposite, it made me want to drive all the more. Needless to say the Chevy was quickly sold to the first person that answered the newspaper ad.
Arnold Mendoza lived with his parents next door to us. He had just gotten out of the Marines and drove a red Triumph TR-3. He also had a girlfriend named Mary who rode a BMW R69S motorcycle. She wore fitted sealskin leathers and looked better than Marilyn Monroe. Arnie felt sorry for me and taught me how to drive. Mary smiled at me and said I was a nice kid. When he moved out into his own apartment he let me hang out with him. He went to college during the day and worked as a janitor at night to pay for it. I used to “borrow” the Triumph while he was working, it was easy to hot wire, and go riding around the city just happy to cruise with the top down. He knew but didn't seem to mind as long as the car came back with gas in the tank.
My next, almost, car was an International Harvester Scout. Other kids wanted T-Birds or hot rods but the ugly duckling with 4-wheel drive called to me. I went down to the dealer and a sympathetic salesman sent me home with brochures and a sales agreement to be signed by my parents.
When I asked my father he hit the roof. What was I thinking? What was I going to do with it? HAD I ASKED PERMISSION? Wait! I was asking permission. I was a straight A student and he said that if I worked hard I could have anything I wanted. That stopped him, but only for a second. He was not going to sign for a vehicle because “We do not buy things on credit!”
My mother must have talked to him because a few days later he brought up the subject and suggested that something a bit more practical might be possible. I think he was thinking of a second hand sedan but I had found the new love of my life. A bug eyed Sprite!
This was a car that only the British could make. No interior door panels, to open the door you reached in through the sliding Plexiglas window if the top was up and pulled on a wire to release the catch. The was no hood, the whole front end came off, and no trunk lid, you flipped the seat forward and stowed things behind you. However, it had one feature above all that made it attractive to me. It was affordable!
I took the brochure to
my dad and made my pitch. He was stuck, he had said that if I had
a solid plan he would give permission. In the end it didn't matter. I
had turned 18 and had to register for the draft. The Vietnam war was
going full blast and I had a choice of volunteering or being sent to
the Army Infantry. I joined the Air Force because I didn't like
people shooting at me. But that's a story for another day!
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