I need some help too. My favorite car is in my garage, and I have no fond memories with the car yet. Is there anyway you and I can solve this dilemma/predicament? Our joint venture might shed an unusual perspective on your research. I'll do whatever to help you earn an "A".
Cerberus thanks for the offer but i have a gentleman to make memories with already i im sure there is a lovely lady for u to start those memories with! i
Love the foxy part! I love to see couples that are loyal and loving... thats too uncommon anymore . And o would kill for a 67 chevelle! Not literally of course but damn thats a pretty car! Pearl white.... oh dreams
Cerebrus you edited your comment to exclude that it should be changed feom FNG to FNC. what are u thinking FNC means? Hopefully not how it sounds when you say it out loud.....
Let's see. Hmmmm Fish 'n' Chips Freethinkers of Northern California FOX News Channel It's got to be an acronym for sometang.
We had a 68 DeVille when I was a kid back in the 70's. Road tripped that car a lot, It was always taking us somewhere cool. Usually listening to Johnny Cash, Willie, Waylon and the boys. I remember a blowout on I80 in Illinios, goddam wheel cover shot off and went across the median, across the other side lanes and into the ditch. I learned some choice language that day. It was always a cool car to me even as a little dude. It had dual glasspacks and sounded good. I learned how to polish chrome on that monster. Something about the stacked headlights and grill always stuck with me. I remember it driving away with a new owner in probably '77 or so and missing it. So a couple of years ago I finally find one I like and get it. By then Dad had been thru 2 rounds of cancer and the writing is on the wall. We're on our way back from the Golden Cruise and I put on some Cash, he and I are singning along. My daughter, wife, and mom are laughing and enjoying the show. Good memories, he didn't last 6 months more. Sure am glad we had that fun ride.
I don't have a particular memory or car that sticks out in my mind. I have always been into hotrods / speed parts going back to grade school - a loooong time ago. I remember drawing pictures of cars and engines during class. I was born with this, since there was no one early on in my life with the same interests. Nothing has changed through the years, and I (still) always have a project in the works and parts stashed for them. Anyway, good luck with your paper - sorry I couldn't help.
HA ! I'm a happily married dirty ole man but I'll bet I'm far from the only guy here who fell in love with your picture, then you, for the way you can laugh and enjoy old cars and fun. Your boyfriend is a very lucky guy. I hope he's also a car guy! Blue 68, I was born and sorta raised in central Illinois. Made many trips across I80. Used to pick up and collect old hubcaps. Wondered where that beat up ole 68 DeVille cap came from? Come down here and get it! Loved your story.
More obsession than possession but,, Back in the early 1960's we had a neighbor that lived behind us on a corner lot,,Mr.Burton was his name,,never knew his first name and from the time I was 10 years old I cut his grass during the summer. He drove a 53/56 Ford truck to work and had been involved in some kind of accident and walked with a bad limp that's probably why he hired me to cut his grass. Anyway,I would go to his barn and get what I needed to do his yard work and there half covered with a old green canvas army tent was a 32 Ford 5-window coupe. I always looked forward to entering that sacred tomb each summer until that day in early June he told me that my services were no longer needed,,,he explained that he was moving up north to live with his sister,,,he ask me did I want the lawnmower to go into business cutting other folks yards,,,I gladly went to the shed to retrieve the lawnmower and gaze one last time at the coupe,,which had not moved the whole time we lived next to him. I ask him was he gonna drive the old car to his sisters (Knowing full well it wasn't road worth)or pull it,,,His answer was,,No,son,I'm gonna have to sell the old gal,,,with that reply,,I fired back how much? His answer was already established because 75 bucks came back as quick as I ask.,,,I'll buy it,I said. He looked at me and said we need to talk to your dad,,,not wanting my dad to say no,,,I told Mr. Burton I would talk to dad tonight when he gets home from work,,, Next day I sat outside Mr. Burton's front door,,it seemed to be forever,,but I knew he worked second shift and I didn't dare wake him up,,It just might screw things up. Around noon he exited his house and ask how long had I been there and if I had discussed the sale with my dad,,I told him I just came over a few minutes ago and dad said yes it was OK with him,,,, BTW,,I never once said a word to my dad,,I really didn't need the money,,I robbed my cigar box full of wadded up cash and coins and with my grass cutting money,birthday money and my entire life savings I had enough money and some change,,enough money to buy the coupe and fix it up,,,Hey ,I was 12 years old,,,I didn't know what I do today. So,,I handed Mr. Burton my hard earned cash and we proceed to unearth the coupe,,man,That car was nice,,original black paint though somewhat scratched and faded ,Flathead V8,and all 4 tires were shot and rotten,,,but I had the biggest grin on my face as I fought with all my might trying to guide it as Mr. Burton pulled it behind his truck across his yard into my parents side yard. I was the happiest kid in the world for about three hours,,,,and then the clouds moved in. That was when my dad got home,,,,the first words out of his mouth was what was that junk doing in our yard?,,,from there it got ugly,,,he called Mr. Burton,,,woke him up,,remember,,2nd shift,,he was a little more than annoyed,,he and dad got into a debate/argument about not clearing it with him first and that I was 12 years old and had no business with a car and for him to come and get that junk out of his yard,NOW,and if he wanted to,,,keep the money my son gave you for lying to both of us,,,and he would take care of me,,I knew as soon as he hung up the phone what was gonna happen,,they don't call this part of the South the Bible Belt for nothing. Heavy on the belt,,,,long story coming to a end,,,Mr. Burton gave me my money back and had a big laugh at my expense and told me not to lie to my parents,,,a few days later both he and the car were gone,, never to be seen again,,,, Many years later my dad and I talked about what had now become known as the ol' ford coupe incident and how he never dreamed that I would ever be able to restore and build cars from the ground up and how badly I wanted that car,,,,and how he was proud of me when people would stop by our business and ask about the different cars that I would drive to work At that time the 32 Ford coupes were already reaching unheard of prices,,and he just couldn't believe it. A few weeks before he passed away the subject came up again,,he said I sure hope you find a ol' coupe like that one someday,,,,I told him,,it was probably a good thing he didn't let me keep it,,I would have made a hot rod and gotten myself killed in it,,he smiled and said,,Nobody will ever know son,,we can't go back,,but if I could,,,you would get to keep that car. BTW,I finally did find and buy a 5-window coupe a couple of years ago,it only took me 48 years to get back to owning a coupe,,but it cost a lot more than 75.00 bucks! HRP
Very similar except I have a million car stories. I came from a poor family and earned extra cash, mostly lunch money, drawing pictures of hot rods and customs---and Vargus type girls---to sell to other students. Sometimes the teaches took the girlie pictures but I always drew more.
Man, HRP, that was a great story. I could just picture it as things happened and for some reason knew the outcome. Of course, dad was right. You were both right. Sorry about your dad but death is a certain. Glad you finally got your $75+ 32 coupe.
Here's a quick pic to sum up my memories... way to much to type on a phone but basically my 54' Chevy was around since I was born. Here's a pic of me and my Dad giving her a bath in probly 86' when we lived in Pomona and here is a new pic of her all pretty at home up here in Apple Valley. This car has given me some serious headaches but has never let me down... Sent from my DROID device using the TJJ mobile app
X2! Kinda sad...kinda nice. Sad, 'cause you didn't get the car, and your dad was so harsh about it. But nice, 'cause he eventually understood the importance of your passion, respected you for it...and expressed that to you. If it had to be a choice, I think you may have gotten the better of the two options. Glad you finally got yourself a Deuce, though.
Cars and memories. I remember sitting in the back seat of a Torino just a little older than I was, my mother being stopped for speeding. Neither of us belted in, didn't matter to the cop back then. My earliest automotive memory, one of my earliest memories period. My Dad had a yellow El Camino. Do I remember it from firsthand experience, or just from photos? Its replacement I remember well, the white one, mid-70s. The time it was in the shop and the dealer gave him a mid-60s GMC to drive, cool! He sold the Chevrolet to my uncle; I wrote in my journal at school (read daily by the teacher) about those adventures, the two of them riding, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon (they never called it PBR back then, so I don't now), me riding "on the hump". There was the day they drove down the railroad track, the day they let me drive. The teacher laughed when she read it. Teachers don't laugh about things like that these days, do they? The energy crisis came, so they bought woodstoves, and then a dusty old '49 F-5 farm truck to haul firewood. Hooked by chain to a Ferguson T-30, they decided to pull it down the road to see if it would start. I really wanted to ride shotgun, but Dad said the engine might blow up! I remember being scared; I don't remember if I got the nerve up to ride. The Ford didn't start, that I know. Dad had a tow truck, '56 Chevrolet (I always liked spelling out the word Chevrolet), maybe a C-60? I thought, at that age, it must be the toughest truck there ever was. Loud exhaust, that helped. My uncle needed a porch torn off, the truck was enlisted. My young brain watched; that truck can do anything! Soon after Dad painted it, pretty blue, had it lettered up "you bend 'em, we mend 'em!", he loaded up the family in the Grand Marquis to go take a look one night, I can still smell the fresh paint, can still hear the exhaust from the new twin stacks he had installed, rumbling and echoing against the walls of the old shop that night. And then, it was gone, sold because Dad tired of being awoken at 3am to pull some drunk out of the marsh. There was Dad's "fuel crisis" special, the Ford Courier, I think he painted it every year he had it. Roll bars (it was a 2wd), he worked the clutch, I shifted, every time he came down the hill leading to our house he cut the ignition than switched it back on, just to make it backfire. I remember him driving across a corn field one early fall day, through the corn, took him an hour to pull it all out of the grille, he must have been going 30. The day he got it stuck in deep sand on a logging road, late in the day, after just telling me about how many bears lived in that woods. As always, I was riding shotgun, me and my Daddy. I have no recollection of the bears or any fear, he was my hero, he always fixed things. He got that truck unstuck, of course he did. I could go on; the Courier and the jump start, the Super Sport convertible, looking for a cheap Powerglide and seeing the "giant ant", watching Dad weld the floors in a Mach 1 clone and how he took some leftover carpet from home and spray painted it black...they are all happy memories, important memories. I wouldn't trade any of them.
The Jalopy Journal
