Some wheels
Back when my personal finances were evenly divided between budget lines for comic books, candy/soda, and Revell models, I was car crazy. I dreamed of saving up 50 bucks to buy the army surplus jeeps advertised on the inside back cover of Marvel Comics. The age of hot rods and dream cars was in full swing, and I carefully assembled copies of Ed "Big Daddy" Roth's Mysterion, 007's Aston Martin, GM's turbine-powered x-car. My father was a gear-head too, adopting a string of alt-tech autos ranging from the rickety Borgward to the ill-fated Corvair. His brother Don worked for Studebaker, on the design team that turned out the elegant Avanti. It was the kind of pure love that couldn't survive contact with reality--learning to drive, and getting a real job to save up for some wheels.
Since that time, I've herded a lot of junk, laundry vans, rusted-out Valiants, little things made by Mitsubishi, enormous V-8 wagons from Detroit. Cars named after birds and divinities and predators, and cars named by faceless committees. But I've never driven anything that I could love the way I loved the idea of a '57 T-Bird, or a coffin-nosed Cord Roadster. Like most folks, I view the beast in the drive with something between conditional acceptance, resignation and outright loathing. Just as the poem on the page never quite lives up to the poem that was in the head, the car in the drive can never be as good as the car of the mind. Now that was one sweet ride.
Send along your own nominations for best rides and worst. I'll dig up photos and post with your replies. Use the comment link below or email dale@ncpr.org.
Labels: cars
posted by Dale Hobson @ 5/14/2009
6 comments
6 Comments:
wow Dale, the mention of the Borgward was like a floodgate for my automotive memories. My dad and I even made a half assed attempt at building an Armstrong Sidley Safire. Polishing the radiator, stripping off the fenders in preparation for new welting, only to loose altitude when the electric transmission couldn't be made to go into reverse. Odd to think that I could fix it now but wouldn't. Then I couldn't but would. You right the symbolic world is more valuable than the real one.
The best was my first, what had been my Dad's car. He gave it to me when I graduated from college, a 2Dr 1964 Chrysler 300. It had a huge V8 with a 4 barrel carburetor and when you had the gas to the floor at 80 that carburetor would kick in and you would be thrust back into the seat until you attained free fall around 120-130.
I nominate my first car - the '68 Ford Mustang - wish I still had it...
My vote goes to the '63 Chevy Impala Super Sport. It was the first and only car I ever ordered direct from the factory and remains the one "I wish I still had."
My first was a 1963 MG B. I bought it in December 1971 from a family friend for $100... and it was a $100 car. I sold it in late spring of 1972 - why did I sell it at the BEGINNING of summer after having just driven it through the winter?... dumb! But it was one of the most fun cars I ever owned... until I bought recently a car I have now, a 1967 MG B. Reliving my youth I guess.
My worst was a 1972 Chevrolet Vega hatchback. I bought it after rolling over a 1972 VW superbeetle in an ice storm on the Maine Turnpike. The Vega also had a 4 cylinder engine and was supposed to save on gas, but despite numerous return trips to the dealer it never got better than 10 miles to the gallon. You never had to change the oil because you were always adding more. We had to replace the transmission,the alternator, the water pump and have a half block replacement all under warranty.
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