Share your fondest influential auto-related memories from childhood

Going with dad in his whacked roof 34 ford five window to woodward.
I was real young and being italian, real short.
So i fought to get to the curb to see the cars, as i stand for a bit two dudes dump a trashcan full of water a cars length down from me. A prostreet camaro pulls up in the water and lights up all its gears right past me, side exhaust almost burning my legs. But all i did was stare and take it all in. I thought it was the coolest shit ever.

Till later that night i saw a yellow chopped, shaved, lowered & skirted 49-51 merc, (Fuzzy memory on year), Light it up so hard, I honestly forgot i was holding the pepsi in my hand. To me the smoke cloud was a monster of amazment. Too see a car so beautiful rip that hard was a mental marker for sure.

 

Mine is pretty simple, my family moved to Oregon when I was four (1987) we had a pile of garbage datsun but I still remember the first time used Orange clean after helping work on that pile of crap. It's funny how some of the smallest details are the one you remember forever.

 

I remember fondly: the butt whoopin I got when I was 5. My Mom caught me trying to raise the rf of a 58 chevy with a bumper jack. Got it hooked but couldn't for the life of me get that wheel off the ground!..............My Dad taking me to school in his 63 Impala 4sp and passing the school bus, yeah!.........Building my first engine myself and it ran!.....My older cousin showing me how to speed-shift my camaro. peace

 

Lots of good times,worst time was helping dad wet rub a truck with the hose and a brick half hour after paint when he went inside to make coffee! I was 3yrs old and thought it would be cool to help dad!WHOOPS!

 

I'm sorta the black sheep of the family. No hot rods growing up, but lots of fun with the cars we had. I have a half dozen brothers and sisters, so we generally ended up in two vehicles. Most of the time it would turn into a race between my Mom and Dad to see who would get to the destination first. Seldom took the same route as they were always trying to outsmart each other with short cuts.

My Dad would buy new cars every 1 to 3 years depending on whether he liked them or not. In the late 50's to mid 60's, they were fast out of the box. Last new car before he got stuck on Caddy's was a coded 69 Grand Prix. Again, no slouch! Was always surprised how he drove and got away with it. But my parents were fairly even as I saw my Mom make my Dad nervous at times taking the cars to the limit when he was a passenger. She came in more behind than usual on one run and it's because she took her new mid 70's Eldorado a full 360 off a turn on the way home according to my brother. No damage, but she hated to lose.......

My Dad was into bikes and I still have a pics of him on his Harleys and Indians. Flat tracked Harleys across the country on the weekends, but never carried the performance talents over to his cars.

Now that he's 84 and can see how I enjoy hot rods, he's thinking about one. Yep, just passed his driver's test and still good behind the wheel. Never too late to learn, right?

 

My dad tought me it wasn't always the car that won the race. He had a fast 47 Chevy back in the day and raced his brother in his fast Ford. My dad beat him and then they traded cars and he beat him with his own car

 

When I was in elementary school in the mid-'60s a friends older brother had a red 55 or 56 Ford with chrome reverse wheels, a cammed up Y-block, 4 speed & sat nose high with no front bumper. I loved to listen to that car as it came down the street, cam loping & the echo bouncing off the walls of the buildings. I never forgot it and hope to build one similar someday.
When I was 15 I won the Guam Soap Box Derby. As part of the trip back to the U.S. for the All American Soap Box Derby we spent a few days in Detroit, met then GM president Ed Cole, had a picnic at his home in Grosse Pointe with his wife Dolly & son Joe, and toured the Chevrolet Design Center. In the garage below the studio they had several of the prototype Corvettes and I got to sit in a couple, even got yelled at by a chaperon for shifting a 4 speed through the pattern without pushing in the clutch. Good memories.

 

American Graffitti in my Jammies

Sitting in a running Offy powered dirt car at the age of 5 or 6

Getting chewed out by mom when dads RARE musclecar got sideswiped in a street race. We had the guy when he lost it

All early to mid 70s.

 

What got me into cars was watching American Graffiti with my Grandpa when I was 5. What got me into bikes was sitting on my porch and seeing a group of Angels if I remember right riding by on uncorked Harley's when I was 6. I felt therumble through the ground. I nearly cried when it was over.

 

this is from the mid 60's.. my brothers were both in the army,my brother tom was shipping out of fort brag to visit the vietcong... my other brother was stationed in alabama.his ride was a 58 vette with a 283 and hilborn fuel injection... he was on leave to visit tom before shipping off and then was on his way to our home in jersey.and the story goes..about 3am northbound on i 95 in virginia doing at least 115 to 120 mph,the old vettes were hard to keep on the ground at that speed!!!my brother jim is hangin on with his foot hovering on the floor for miles when all of a sudden he sees a light come on next to him with a virginia trooper pointing to the side of the road.well off to the side,my brother thinks to him self thats it,i'm fried now. the trooper walks up to the window with the vette barely able to idle jumping and rocking back and forth,the cop says .what the hell do you have in this?it took me seven miles to catch up to this..pop the hood.well after a long and friendly conversation,all he said to my brother was keep it around 80mph..god be with you and your brother!! what do you think a cop would do now to you....

 

I remember ridin around with my pops in the 63 belair when i was 5-6. I still own that very car that belonged to my great grandma. I remember pops friend used to give me rides in his t-bucket when i was little too. My dad drag raced a small block 64 chevy 2 for a long time. My mom used to yell at him for lettin me help with warming up the slicks! I was prolly 9-10 at the time an theres no cooler feeling than hangin in the pits with your arms covered in rubber from the burnouts and the smell of avgas on your shirt! Ahhh.... the good ol days!!!

 

My dad had a business in Tulsa and Muskogee Ok. I was about 7 or 8 and on the drive between Tulsa and Muskogee he would always stop at a guys house who always had 5 or 6 hot rods for sale in front. I remember one of the cars had a Bonneville 200 mph club sticker in the back window. I didnt know what that was but thought it was cool as hell and wanted to be in the club one day, still waiting.

 

I remember being 3 or 4 and riding in the passenger seat of my dad's '70 Mach 1. 351C and Hurst 4 speed. I remember I couldn't see over the dash. I remember the rumble of the Cleveland and the lurch as it was shifting through the gears.

In college I bought a '78 Firebird with a sbc transplanted into it. I thought it was all bad. In reality it was a slow turd. I didn't know the first thing about cars. One night driving home from a girlfriend's house late on back country roads I got my backside handed to me by another kid in a primered '69 sbc Camaro. I was hooked. I read, and listened, and learned... then read some more. I got into drag racing and always got beat. A lot. But it wasn't more than a couple of years until I had some things sorted out and I started winning. And the bug has never let go.

 

This would have been during the mid 60's when I was about 4. My dad would let me sit on his lap and steer while he worked the gas & brake. Mom didn't like it, but I thought it was great! -Dave.

 

I had a neighbor about 10 years older than me. His first car was a '65 Mustang with a Shelby 289 4 spd and Thunderbird sequential tail lights. Next he put an Econoline straight axle and a nice blower on top, then a new paint job and custom upholstery. He used to show the car at the NY Coliseum shows and took me along a few times. Hooked for life.

 

We lived out in the country and my folks were farmers. My Dad had a 41 Ford Convert that he got before the war and it was our main car from 46 to 50-black with loud pipes. Remember cruising main with my Dad's cousins when I was 8 or 9 in their lowered 49-50 Fords in 51-52 in Madera-way cool!! My Dad had this crazy cousin who had just gotten out of the Marines and had a new 58 Pontiac with tripower and a stick. I would go with him and he would grab a few beers and cruise around the back roads and he would let me drive it. He would tell me to stop then get on it and go thru the gears-what a rush at 15. My Mom's car was a 57 Olds Fiesta with a J2 and my Dad had a new 59 Ford Pickup. When they went on vacation and I would take them to Madera drags and run em-was only about 15 miles on back roads-I think the Olds ran B/SA and the pickup ran C or D/S. The farmers all went to this coffee shop early a couple of times a week and sometime later they were all there and a guy who was at Madera told my Dad how good these ran at the drags. I wasn't allowed to drive any of their cars after that but it was OK as I had my own by then. I was 17 and got myself a 57 Pontiac and had tripower put on it and ran it a lot in 60-61. Most of the other farmer kids had 59-60 Chevys or new Fords but that Pontiac would get most of them-won a lot of trophies in B/SA. In 1965 I was married and we still lived in the Madera area. I had to report for an Appr Lineman job in Bakersfield. He reluctantly let me drive the Ford PU which he still had but told me to call when I got there and take it easy. I did call as soon as I arrived (mistake) and I got there way too fast-he was not happy to say the least and told me I was going to blow the old truck up. Later he just gave it to me and we had it for many years.

 

This, every time it started up or I got to go into the neighbors garage to see it.

 

My Dad was a mechanic and really at the age of 84 still is. In the late 50's my Dad was a Marine in Camp Pendelton and I remember a 30's chevy coupe that my mother left my brother and myself inside as she went into the store 'for a minute' goofing off we knock it out of gear and it rolled into traffic, PCH. by luck we didn't get hit. But for cars, when my Dad, after the service, worked at sports car dealership and we had a Renult but we also got a series of sports cars appearing at the house, Alpines, Alfas and a Fiat Jolly . Later with a move to South Dakota, cars were what my Dad got and fixed for family use. A green 55 Chevy post, 58 GMC service truck. More sports cars from the shop that got 'test driven'; Amphicar, Austin Martin, Lola, Tiger. I resisted becoming a gear head until after high school when all I could afford was beat up vehicles that my father help me keep running and I finally started to pay attention. Thanks Dad.

 

Hearing a full race flathead fire for the first time. I painted my engine black as a tribute to that motor.
Bringing my first car home after laying down years worth of lawnmowing money.
Growing up around Stafford Speedway in the Winston Cup days.
Riding in the rumble seat of a Model A

 

When I was 14, walking down main street on a Sunday morning and the streets nearly deserted, 2 cars, a red 57 Belair driven by a young guy that worked with my dad and a new 58 cream colored Delray that belonged to an exneighbor suddenly began reving their engines and when the light turned green, with tires burning they raced to the next light. I was hooked and a fan of the SBC from that moment on. Now I am bulding my own 58 Chevy, although mine is a Biscayne.

 

Summer of '59, I'm 12 my older sis is 16.....her boyfriend and his friend Ollie both have 49 Merc converts.........mild customs........I get a rides.......as a very young car guy..........I'm hooked!

 

Back in the late 60's, my Mom's '64 Chev Wagon cracked a head, my Dad had me stop playing with the neighbor kids to 'help' him fix the car. My job was to hand him wrenches....well I was bored to say the least, so my Dad asked what the hell was wrong with me? We're fixing the car?? I said he was having all the fun I'm just handing him wrenches....so he switched places with me, told me what to do and when we put the new head on and it fired up...and I had actually done the work....I was hooked!!!

 

LOL how much time have we got.

So do I write about the old man dumping a load of POP in his A/GA because he was going to win that day. Or doing Donuts on Texas Street just outside of Daniel Webster School with mom because the Ol' Man changed the clutch in the Cobra and didn't tell her? Well those are certainly memorable and influential.

A lot of my childhood was either bike or car related. Lots of things happened some of which shouldn't have but that was life I suppose.

I think that my favorite memory was a trip to Oregon to stay with my uncle for the summer. We were leaving on Saturday morning so Friday evening he (my dad) loads me up with my suitcase and down to the shop we go. I was about 7 so some of this is sketchy but I guess the engine in the roadster needed to be freshened up before we left.

Some of his cronies were there waiting when we arrived and before I fell al sleep there was plenty of drinking and cussing happening. The last thing I remember was sitting on the bench and Sonny telling me that we were going to have one last drink, I don't know what he was drinking and I probably had root beer, or cream soda they were my favorites. The next thing I remember was waking up on the creeper wrapped up in Sonny's leather (it smelled funny) and Uncle Sig stuffing a donut and a cup of coffee at me and shouting, "hey the kids awake", then the nailhead in the roadster firing up and screaming while it was "breaking in". We were on the coast highway headed north by the time the sun came up. Good trip.

 

In 1957, I was a little kid in primary school, in Adelaide, South Australia. My Late Aunty Rene Duncan had a 1200 Power Chief Indian with a side box on it for deliveries sh did for a Company called A.G. Healing in the city. I used to go to school in Gilles St, which like the Warehouse, was in the lower end of town. My dear Aunt sometimes would pick me up and take me for a ride in the side box and the big thrill was riding in that when she would belt it around a round-a-bout with the side box up in the air and me laughing my head off. Her road car at that time was a 36 or 38 ford coupe (over 60 yrs ago now) and my brother and I would fight to sit in the rumble seat while she laired about in it.. Cool days and I loved her to bits.. Her husband Bob, was an ex Military Despatch rider in WWII and they always had a yard full of bikes which my Aunt & he used to ride flat out everywhere.. I got my love of cars & mechanics from that lady and I know she is up there somewhwre flogging the daylights out or fer beloved Indian..

 

60+ years ago while on my annual summer visit to my grandparents farm in North Iowa I was helping grampa repair a flat on the right front of his '31 Model A(their one and only vehicle at the time). then we jumped in it, gramp, gram my little bro, and myself, and headed to town to do the "trading"( saturday weekly shopping and trading eggs for mdse). On the way home on the gravel road the same tire failed again. No spare and when removing the tire and wheel in the gravel gramp discovered a wrench had been left in the tire when the repair was done. He promptly blamed it on me?. Gramp stuck the wheel and tire in the back seat of the 2 door sedan, had gram, my brother and myself all pile into driver's side rear seat and we proceeded home on three wheels for something less than ten miles on that gravel road. My passion ever since then was to have a model A 2 dr sedan and 60 years later I do.

 

Hah...'til our fingers fly off. Boing.

I haven't posted much lately, but I posted a Happy Birthday for Danny. (HOTRODPRIMER) Take a look and wish Danny well.
http://www.jalopyjournal.com/forum/threads/happy-birthday-sandy-and-danny-hotrodprimer.971778/unread
After I posted I started scrolling through the threads...and I saw this old thing is back up. Cool. Great stories Beaner and the rest of you. Some are simple (like mine) and some are awesome! Some of you were very lucky to be around such cool cars and influenced by true hot rodders and racers. I think we'll always be hot rod-crazy kids at heart. It's good.

I'll share another one.

My very first hot rod memory. 1960/1961. I was only 3 or maybe 4 years old. We lived in a big 2-story duplex one block off of Main street in Rochester, Michigan. The owners of the house, Clarence and Alice Nedro also lived there in the other half of the house. They had 4 kids. 1 daughter...and 3 teenaged boys who were greasers through and through...black leather jackets, pointy "fence-climber" shoes, slicked hair, etc. Those young men treated me well...they always had a smile and a good word for me. They towered over me, and I idolized them. When my father and Mr. Nedro were at work, my mother often visited Mrs. Nedro. They'd sit at the kitchen table drinking coffee and playing cards...and I'd be there too. One day, the youngest son Joe was outside in the driveway with a couple of his friends, messing with a late '40s black Ford coupe...unbeknown to me. Suddenly there was a loud roar as the old flathead came to life...and I just had to go to the door to look. I remember pulling back the curtain and looking through the door window that extended nearly to the floor. Joe and his friends were all under the open hood as Joe was revving the crap outa the engine.
Rumbahhh!!!...rumbahhh!!!...RUUUUMBAHHH!!! Woohoo! Neat!
Mom said to me, "Ricky! Get away from there!" I think she was afraid of me being negatively influenced by these "hoodlums".
Too late...I was hooked...lol.
And decades later, I got me a similar car. RUMBAAAHHH-RUMBAAAHHH!!!

 

LOL sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had lead a normal life. In '10 I saw my first race from the bleechers. It is an entirely different perspective that what I have always had.

 

Here is a picture of me in my dad's AA/FA in about 1969-1970. Not finished here, but he raced as The Different Drummer through the early 70s in North Texas (Green Valley) and wherever he could get to.


I don't remember this day but I know it affected me. Dad sold the car in 1974 and died in 1999, but around 2008 I was able to get close to the a couple of fuelers firing up at the LSRU and it brought tears to my eyes from the deep visceral memories embedded in my soul. I felt really close to my dad. Thank goodness I could blame it all on the nitro fumes, though I was not that close. Great thread.

 

When I was small we always went to the local dirt track & my dad n friends ran a 55 Chevy 2 door post with a stroked "292" 6 cyl n that got me hooked for life. But what sent me into total geargead mode as a kid of about 10 years old was dad testing out a customers solid lift 327 67 vette convert, that our shop had just did a valve job n put new chambered side pipes on. That sucker must've has 4:10s I will never ever forget that sucker launching n rowing thru all 4 gears in a matter of seconds while screaming LOUD notes of spent exaust through those side pipes! sweet , sweet , music ......gotta love those rappy little 327s! Flux

 

Wow, so many! But the first that comes to mind is the day my Dad let me drive to school in fifth grade.....I had a 4 seat Berry Mini T I used to blast around the field behind his Texaco station in, and the Principle was outside directing bus traffic. He nearly went apoplectic! Didn't help matters when my Dad (who was sitting in the passenger seat) told him I probably drove better than he did! The second was one day my dad ran low on gas at his other business (an ice house, which for you non-southerers is kind of a half convenience store / half bar hybrid), and he pulled into a Phillip's 66 he used to manage before he got his own Texaco station for gas. Since our Texaco was only 5 or so miles away, the owner apparently considered us the "competition" (we really wern't, we were on the interstate and he was in town) and refused to sell my dad gas! My Dad has a pretty short fuse, and he was pissed! He peeled out of the station calling the guy every name in the book, and headed for our station. Now normally, this would probably be the end of it, but Oh No! Not my Dad, we get to our station on fumes, he gets two of the station employees (who are also family friends in their late teens, early 20's), and loads them, me, and every egg in the refrigerated case in the office (about six dozen) into his Super Stock '57 Chevy race car, and proceeds to drive back to the other station with open headers, slicks, no revistration, etc.... and egg the station and the owner's car right in front of him, then stage the car and launch it across the front of the station! To this day, the only reason I can figure that the cops never showed up was the guy must of been afraid of my Dad after that. Needless to say, we never went back there for gas!

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