I found out from Google that the "little old lady from Pasadena" phrase predated the Jan and Dean song and that it had been used previously by used car salesmen who would say that the car they were trying to sell was owned by a little old lady from Pasadena who only drove it to church on Sundays. My little old lady story is about Marge Shoof who would pick up my siblings and me and take us to Sunday School in her Henry J. Marge was a little old lady but her Henry J was the car of my dreams. It was painted a mid 50's Plymouth metallic green and had a Chev 283 under the hood, wide whitewall tires with full disc wheelcovers from a Jeep with "J" in the center. She was instrumental in my love for Jesus and hot rods. Today, I was told that her son Gerald who built the car had passed away. When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there.
I've known some little old ladies who could kill clutches and transmissions faster than most teenage boys, and one of the best automatic transmission builders I ever knew was named Sue. She grew up around her father's garage. She was a petite woman, and she said that her small hands were an advantage working on transmissions.
The Jalopy Journal
