I turned 16 years old in 1953 and HAD to have a car. Was dollar challenged so a hot flattie was out of sight and the super hot 49 0r 50 Olds 88 coupe was just a dream. Put the word out I had $35 and a tip came back on a flat head 4 cylinder car in a town 20 miles away; it was the 41 Willys coupe with a brush applied dirty maroon paint job and not a single dent or bad glass . Didn't really want it but when the guy told me he would take $34 and let me keep a dollar for gas (that would buy 4 gallons) the deal was made. My pal that drove me to it had a 48 Chevy club coupe and was going to follow behind just in case. Being sixteen year olds we never gave a thought to steering, tires, oil, lube, or anything else because we were both immortal and bullet proof. The speedometer didn't work on the Willys so he drove beside me to shout out the speed. At 80 he shouted the Chevy was topped out and the Willys must have gone 2mph faster. It was a good car that was easy to work on and lasted through high school---no small feat. When I left for college I gave it to my younger brother since I couldn't afford either parking or gas. He was messing around with his girl friend and right in front of the Ford dealership climbed about six feet up a utility pole. The bumper, grill, and hood were ruined and the head lights turned in to face each other but it would still run so he got a huge flood light off an old American LaFrance fire truck and mounted it in the hood latch hole. The city police let it slide but a highway cop condemned it. It went to a junk, not a salvage, yard where they had a hole in the ground where they would push a car into it and then run back and forth across it with a crawler tractor to crush it; a common practice before portable crushers. For a car I didn't really want it gives fond memories.
The Jalopy Journal
