Memories of Olds gone by...
January 6th, 2018, 01:10 PM
#1
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Join Date: Dec 2017
Posts: 49
Memories of Olds gone by...
In reading the posts on this forum I see a lot of great information, technical jargon, and assistance from concerned and helpful people. That's great, and I'll be happy to ask questions and provide the knowledge I have. But I've seen little of the things that give us all the love we have for the automobile, and particularly Oldsmobiles... the memories that made the need for shiny chrome and smoking tires attractive. So in the interest of why I love Oldsmobiles, I invite you to tell your stories. Here's my own first experience.
I looked out of the second floor window of the farmhouse my parents owned in Minnesota, outside Cannon Falls, in Bell Creek. There was a car backing into the spot my parents parked, an unknown white station wagon... and in the back, clearly visible, was a go kart. What a great way to introduce a '60 Olds 88, a huge, brand new behemoth of bright red vinyl and plenty of room to play for a seven year old. The go kart was a freebie for buying a new car, and my brother and I wore it out. There are tales to tell about the kart, but that's for another forum.
A massive Olds wagon in nineteen-sixty fit right in with the cars of the day. I have no idea what kind of mileage it got, but I'd be surprised if it was more than five miles to the gallon. But then, I wasn't filling the tank.
Regardless of mileage, at some point my mother loaded me and my siblings into the Olds and drove us all from Minnesota to Acapulco to spend the entire summer with my grandfather, an expat with a heavy Danish accent that made extra money teaching English to Mexican kids. He had a maid and a man to keep the grounds, and a girlfriend or two. And his home sported a huge balcony overlooking Acapulco Bay.
I saw my first dead man washed up on an Acapulco beach while taking a morning walk with my grandfather after an overnight storm.
I don't remember much about the trip to and from Mexico, except that we stopped at Carlsbad Caverns on the way down, and at a hamburger joint on the way back.
The cave experience was great, but the thing I remember most was having to break the wing window in the Olds because the keys had been locked in the car.
The reason I remember the border town hamburger joint isn't because of the burgers, or that we'd been driven into seeking shelter because of flooded roads in the desert of the southwest US, but because some people showed up after exiting Mexico with a baby donkey in the back seat of their car. They ordered an extra burger and fries for the donkey.
My last clear memory of the Olds was in Tennessee after we'd moved to a house on Old Hickory Lake on the outskirts of Hendersonville. I was standing at the kitchen door, looking out at the rain coming down in sheets past the carport, and lightening struck the top of the car making a noise like a cymbal as the lightening cracked.
Well, that was my introduction to Oldsmobiles. If anyone is interested in sharing a memory, please feel free... I can't think of a single Olds memory that wasn't good. (at least in retrospect...LOL)
I looked out of the second floor window of the farmhouse my parents owned in Minnesota, outside Cannon Falls, in Bell Creek. There was a car backing into the spot my parents parked, an unknown white station wagon... and in the back, clearly visible, was a go kart. What a great way to introduce a '60 Olds 88, a huge, brand new behemoth of bright red vinyl and plenty of room to play for a seven year old. The go kart was a freebie for buying a new car, and my brother and I wore it out. There are tales to tell about the kart, but that's for another forum.
A massive Olds wagon in nineteen-sixty fit right in with the cars of the day. I have no idea what kind of mileage it got, but I'd be surprised if it was more than five miles to the gallon. But then, I wasn't filling the tank.
Regardless of mileage, at some point my mother loaded me and my siblings into the Olds and drove us all from Minnesota to Acapulco to spend the entire summer with my grandfather, an expat with a heavy Danish accent that made extra money teaching English to Mexican kids. He had a maid and a man to keep the grounds, and a girlfriend or two. And his home sported a huge balcony overlooking Acapulco Bay.
I saw my first dead man washed up on an Acapulco beach while taking a morning walk with my grandfather after an overnight storm.
I don't remember much about the trip to and from Mexico, except that we stopped at Carlsbad Caverns on the way down, and at a hamburger joint on the way back.
The cave experience was great, but the thing I remember most was having to break the wing window in the Olds because the keys had been locked in the car.
The reason I remember the border town hamburger joint isn't because of the burgers, or that we'd been driven into seeking shelter because of flooded roads in the desert of the southwest US, but because some people showed up after exiting Mexico with a baby donkey in the back seat of their car. They ordered an extra burger and fries for the donkey.
My last clear memory of the Olds was in Tennessee after we'd moved to a house on Old Hickory Lake on the outskirts of Hendersonville. I was standing at the kitchen door, looking out at the rain coming down in sheets past the carport, and lightening struck the top of the car making a noise like a cymbal as the lightening cracked.
Well, that was my introduction to Oldsmobiles. If anyone is interested in sharing a memory, please feel free... I can't think of a single Olds memory that wasn't good. (at least in retrospect...LOL)
Last edited by Travlr; January 6th, 2018 at 01:16 PM.
January 6th, 2018, 07:11 PM
#2
same but different
Join Date: Jun 2007
Location: Central Missouri
Posts: 2,861
I"ll share the few memories of Olds in my youth. My family was prone to mopars so only a couple GM vehicles were in the driveway. Oldsmobile found me, I wasn't looking for one.
At my age of 8, my father had a job change to a very small town. There I befriended a young man who's father worked for GM at the Kansas City plant. His car was a 442. A car without a name but a number instead.
It was loud and beautiful and was his pride and joy. We didn't go near it with our bicycles for the fear of having our behinds lit up...like the tires. He would come home with one or two more during those years but each one left an impression on me.
Only one more car I recall was one of my sisters boy friends. A 1969 Cutlass Supreme lifted on highjackers and what were probably N-50's or something extreme like that for the day."Fully built"
and not with out the latest craig 8 track player capable of screaming the Book of Dreams. I saw other cars come and go during my growth in the family that were certainly mentionable but it would be a while before my first olds fell in my lap by accident.
My friend had a 71 cutlass that gave him all sorts of transmission troubles. Not once but twice and even a third time. A pretty worn out hoopty not suitable for driving to the next county. He sold it to me for $65 bucks. About a gallon of trans fluid later I got it home only to find an O-ring was bad at the kickdown mechinism. It cost me 5 cents and ten minutes to fix it. I got a lot of miles out of that one, but an important lesson too. Don't loan your car to a friend. A story within itself not worth repeating.
Car shopping soon insued and what do I find? An almost perfect replacement better than the first one. Priced right, low mileage. old lady car. What we called "Cherry" back then. It took me a month of visiting and getting to know them to finally sway them to sell me the car. Talk about pandering, I was on my best behaviour. That was November of 1986.
Somehow, someway I still own that car. Through dings and dents, engines and headers, repaints and at least one restoration on my behalf, I still have it. I'm happy to say its never let me down on its own merit. Its been a good car.
Today, its just a car. Its not a worthy collectable but simply transportation thats getting kinda old by some opinions. But still looks cool has hell.
to me.
Welcome to the perpetual maintenance phase and the continued dreaming of more power.
At my age of 8, my father had a job change to a very small town. There I befriended a young man who's father worked for GM at the Kansas City plant. His car was a 442. A car without a name but a number instead.
It was loud and beautiful and was his pride and joy. We didn't go near it with our bicycles for the fear of having our behinds lit up...like the tires. He would come home with one or two more during those years but each one left an impression on me.
Only one more car I recall was one of my sisters boy friends. A 1969 Cutlass Supreme lifted on highjackers and what were probably N-50's or something extreme like that for the day."Fully built"
and not with out the latest craig 8 track player capable of screaming the Book of Dreams. I saw other cars come and go during my growth in the family that were certainly mentionable but it would be a while before my first olds fell in my lap by accident.My friend had a 71 cutlass that gave him all sorts of transmission troubles. Not once but twice and even a third time. A pretty worn out hoopty not suitable for driving to the next county. He sold it to me for $65 bucks. About a gallon of trans fluid later I got it home only to find an O-ring was bad at the kickdown mechinism. It cost me 5 cents and ten minutes to fix it. I got a lot of miles out of that one, but an important lesson too. Don't loan your car to a friend. A story within itself not worth repeating.
Car shopping soon insued and what do I find? An almost perfect replacement better than the first one. Priced right, low mileage. old lady car. What we called "Cherry" back then. It took me a month of visiting and getting to know them to finally sway them to sell me the car. Talk about pandering, I was on my best behaviour. That was November of 1986.
Somehow, someway I still own that car. Through dings and dents, engines and headers, repaints and at least one restoration on my behalf, I still have it. I'm happy to say its never let me down on its own merit. Its been a good car.
Today, its just a car. Its not a worthy collectable but simply transportation thats getting kinda old by some opinions. But still looks cool has hell.
to me.Welcome to the perpetual maintenance phase and the continued dreaming of more power.
January 6th, 2018, 08:02 PM
#3
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Join Date: Dec 2017
Posts: 49
Thanks for the contribution. Plenty of memories stirred by your tale. Especially the "5 cents and ten minutes to fix"... and the "don't loan your car to a friend." Gotta wonder how many here have regrets based on that kind of story.
January 7th, 2018, 08:17 AM
#4
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Posts: 49
Soooo... the second Oldsmobile in my memory banks. A beige '63 Dynamic 88. And perhaps because it was beige I have few strong memories of it. The '60 Olds wagon went away, and the '63 took its place while we were in Tennessee.
The gypsy in my dad soon took us to Utah, so this is the car the family traveled in. I had just gotten over the measles, immediately followed by the chicken pox, and my back was still covered with pox. The reason I remember that was because one of my siblings spilled the large thermos of water on me in the back seat of the car, soaking me thoroughly. There is nothing quite so agonizing as riding with itchy pox soaked in wet clothing. I'm sure the episode only lasted a few hours, but the impression it left on my mind was that my agony lasted the entire trip.
The other thing I remember about the car was that it came with fabric seats covered in clear, tiny triangle dimpled vinyl covering. and that the dimples eventually broke and went from smooth to scratchy.
The car holds little charm for me, although I always thought it was beautiful. But the next Olds made up for it. The beige '63 Olds was traded in, and a brand new, dark blue, '65 442 took its place.
The gypsy in my dad soon took us to Utah, so this is the car the family traveled in. I had just gotten over the measles, immediately followed by the chicken pox, and my back was still covered with pox. The reason I remember that was because one of my siblings spilled the large thermos of water on me in the back seat of the car, soaking me thoroughly. There is nothing quite so agonizing as riding with itchy pox soaked in wet clothing. I'm sure the episode only lasted a few hours, but the impression it left on my mind was that my agony lasted the entire trip.
The other thing I remember about the car was that it came with fabric seats covered in clear, tiny triangle dimpled vinyl covering. and that the dimples eventually broke and went from smooth to scratchy.
The car holds little charm for me, although I always thought it was beautiful. But the next Olds made up for it. The beige '63 Olds was traded in, and a brand new, dark blue, '65 442 took its place.
January 7th, 2018, 12:49 PM
#5
Hookers under Hood
Join Date: Nov 2013
Location: Ontario, Canada
Posts: 3,543
I will share a story of what I remember,
I think I was 8 or 9 years of age when I really bugged my Dad to take me to work with him. It must have been around 1973.
He brought me to the shop several times throughout the summer months. My Dad drove Lincoln continentals back then, Lincoln town cars, never owned an Oldsmobile.
However, I really took a liking to an Older gentleman named Benny worked who worked for my Dad back then. He would talk to me while he was sitting on the stool at the drill press and telling me how lucky I was to have such a great Dad.
He spoke highly of my Dad, I remember going out to the coffee truck at break, he would buy a coffee and a paper and would always get me would I would like. So I always got a bag of peanuts.
Benny would take me out to lunch the odd time, at that time he had a new 1973 black and gold Cutlass, swivel buckets and shifter which I thought was so cool. He kept that car spotless!
I told him I would like to own a car like that one day when I grow up.
He told me many stories and how much he enjoyed working for my Dad as a machinist, he had a nice black and gold boat he towed behind the car at times.
I thought wow a car and a boat that really mesh together nicely.
As they years went on Benny bought another new 1977 cutlass supreme, that was the one i liked the most.
I must have been 11 years old at that time, I asked Benny if he would keep that car until I got older so my Dad could buy him a new car and give the 77 to me haha.
Without hesitation, Benny says " By the time your 16 you will want a Camaro or mustang " you probably wont want a big 77 cutlass to impress the young ladies.
I enjoyed talking to all the employees at the shop, but Benny was just cool and was always happy, never in a bad mood.
As time went on, I began working at the shop as began my Tool & Die apprenticeship.
The first car my Dad hooked me up with was a 1976 Olds cutlass supreme with a 260 V8 haha, I was pumped just loved the car, but drove it for my 5 years apprenticing so the body was rotting off of it.
I finally found another 76 in 1996,It was brown/brown needed a good resto.
It sat for a few years, then finally began giving it a face lift and new interior.
I have to tell ya' Benny in now 68 years of age and still continue's to work for me after my Dad past in 2001.
He falls asleep at the drill press on his stool, also falls asleep at the CNC just watching the 3d program cut and to change inserts if need be.
He first introduced me to the Oldsmobile make, That stuck with me until this day.
I still have good conversations with Benny till this day, I will keep him as long as he wants to stay, productive or not, he helped my Dad among others to build the business by working long hours at times, through good times bad times Benny was amazing.
Benny now drives a 2016 Lincoln CTS I believe, but he still enjoys taking my blue Olds for a drive at times .
That's my story
Eric
I think I was 8 or 9 years of age when I really bugged my Dad to take me to work with him. It must have been around 1973.
He brought me to the shop several times throughout the summer months. My Dad drove Lincoln continentals back then, Lincoln town cars, never owned an Oldsmobile.
However, I really took a liking to an Older gentleman named Benny worked who worked for my Dad back then. He would talk to me while he was sitting on the stool at the drill press and telling me how lucky I was to have such a great Dad.
He spoke highly of my Dad, I remember going out to the coffee truck at break, he would buy a coffee and a paper and would always get me would I would like. So I always got a bag of peanuts.
Benny would take me out to lunch the odd time, at that time he had a new 1973 black and gold Cutlass, swivel buckets and shifter which I thought was so cool. He kept that car spotless!
I told him I would like to own a car like that one day when I grow up.
He told me many stories and how much he enjoyed working for my Dad as a machinist, he had a nice black and gold boat he towed behind the car at times.
I thought wow a car and a boat that really mesh together nicely.
As they years went on Benny bought another new 1977 cutlass supreme, that was the one i liked the most.
I must have been 11 years old at that time, I asked Benny if he would keep that car until I got older so my Dad could buy him a new car and give the 77 to me haha.
Without hesitation, Benny says " By the time your 16 you will want a Camaro or mustang " you probably wont want a big 77 cutlass to impress the young ladies.
I enjoyed talking to all the employees at the shop, but Benny was just cool and was always happy, never in a bad mood.
As time went on, I began working at the shop as began my Tool & Die apprenticeship.
The first car my Dad hooked me up with was a 1976 Olds cutlass supreme with a 260 V8 haha, I was pumped just loved the car, but drove it for my 5 years apprenticing so the body was rotting off of it.
I finally found another 76 in 1996,It was brown/brown needed a good resto.
It sat for a few years, then finally began giving it a face lift and new interior.
I have to tell ya' Benny in now 68 years of age and still continue's to work for me after my Dad past in 2001.
He falls asleep at the drill press on his stool, also falls asleep at the CNC just watching the 3d program cut and to change inserts if need be.
He first introduced me to the Oldsmobile make, That stuck with me until this day.
I still have good conversations with Benny till this day, I will keep him as long as he wants to stay, productive or not, he helped my Dad among others to build the business by working long hours at times, through good times bad times Benny was amazing.
Benny now drives a 2016 Lincoln CTS I believe, but he still enjoys taking my blue Olds for a drive at times .
That's my story
Eric
Last edited by 76olds; January 7th, 2018 at 12:51 PM.
January 8th, 2018, 10:36 AM
#7
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Join Date: Dec 2017
Posts: 49
Ahhhh... The '65 442...
When my dad brought it home it seemed nothing more than another car, except for the fact that it only had two doors. How my father came to buy a two door car is one of those conundrums that will never be solved. I hope it was because he had a momentary lapse due to a boost in testosterone after he took the obligatory test drive. I really doubt that it had anything to do with wanting to be cool for his kids.
The car was Dark Blue, like midnight, with a lighter blue interior. Fake wire wheel hub caps with faux knock off centers graced the rims. As far as I was concerned, as a twelve year old, that was the only thing interesting about the car... until I took a ride and my dad stepped into it. Suddenly I understood the need for speed.
I learned to drive in the 442 some years later, because my father loved the car enough to keep it longer than most. I learned a few other things in "Old Blue" too, and not always in the front seat or under the hood. I took my driving test in the 442, and I learned to drift in it. The gang I hung with attached a nickname to me because of the way I drove that I've always taken pride in... "Psycho"... LOL
Dad was ready to sell Old Blue as I was heading off to boot camp, so I told him that if he really was going to get another car he could consider the 442 sold, that I would buy it for more than he would get in a trade. When I got home from boot camp the car had been sold... to my older brother.
My brother kept the car mechanically pretty well for the next twenty years, but within a month of acquiring it he stripped the interior except for the front seats, and all of the chrome except the bumpers, and put the parts in the trunk so he could get the body work and paint done. He never did paint the car or straighten a dent. So he drove the stripped 442 for twenty years as a daily driver, and the car suffered in humiliation. The last couple of years he parked it a lot because he was driving a company rig.
In '91 I offered to buy Old Blue from him (again), and he accepted. He charged me $500 for what was left of the car. It ran well, but the body was toast. In particular the rear floors and the quarter panels had seen their best days. What plastic moldings had been left around the windows crumbled to the touch.
I spent a lot of time searching for someone to do the body work on the car, and the only guy I found that did good enough work was an alcoholic and known locally as "Mr Unreliable".
In a rather sad and forever butt kicking moment I ran an ad over a weekend. The first guy to see the car bought it for my asking price... his eyes lighting up as I popped the trunk to show him all of the pristine chrome and interior parts that had been residing there for the last two decades. And I swear he practically broke into a jig as he walked back to his truck after loading Old Blue on his trailer.
When my dad brought it home it seemed nothing more than another car, except for the fact that it only had two doors. How my father came to buy a two door car is one of those conundrums that will never be solved. I hope it was because he had a momentary lapse due to a boost in testosterone after he took the obligatory test drive. I really doubt that it had anything to do with wanting to be cool for his kids.
The car was Dark Blue, like midnight, with a lighter blue interior. Fake wire wheel hub caps with faux knock off centers graced the rims. As far as I was concerned, as a twelve year old, that was the only thing interesting about the car... until I took a ride and my dad stepped into it. Suddenly I understood the need for speed.
I learned to drive in the 442 some years later, because my father loved the car enough to keep it longer than most. I learned a few other things in "Old Blue" too, and not always in the front seat or under the hood. I took my driving test in the 442, and I learned to drift in it. The gang I hung with attached a nickname to me because of the way I drove that I've always taken pride in... "Psycho"... LOL
Dad was ready to sell Old Blue as I was heading off to boot camp, so I told him that if he really was going to get another car he could consider the 442 sold, that I would buy it for more than he would get in a trade. When I got home from boot camp the car had been sold... to my older brother.
My brother kept the car mechanically pretty well for the next twenty years, but within a month of acquiring it he stripped the interior except for the front seats, and all of the chrome except the bumpers, and put the parts in the trunk so he could get the body work and paint done. He never did paint the car or straighten a dent. So he drove the stripped 442 for twenty years as a daily driver, and the car suffered in humiliation. The last couple of years he parked it a lot because he was driving a company rig.
In '91 I offered to buy Old Blue from him (again), and he accepted. He charged me $500 for what was left of the car. It ran well, but the body was toast. In particular the rear floors and the quarter panels had seen their best days. What plastic moldings had been left around the windows crumbled to the touch.
I spent a lot of time searching for someone to do the body work on the car, and the only guy I found that did good enough work was an alcoholic and known locally as "Mr Unreliable".
In a rather sad and forever butt kicking moment I ran an ad over a weekend. The first guy to see the car bought it for my asking price... his eyes lighting up as I popped the trunk to show him all of the pristine chrome and interior parts that had been residing there for the last two decades. And I swear he practically broke into a jig as he walked back to his truck after loading Old Blue on his trailer.
Last edited by Travlr; January 8th, 2018 at 10:38 AM.
January 9th, 2018, 05:58 PM
#8
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Join Date: Dec 2017
Posts: 49
While the '65 442 was available for driving in high school, it wasn't my car. It was my Dad's. So I needed a car to get to work and to get to school.
Enter a green and white two tone '54 Olds 88. It was a hulking beast, and at almost a hundred thousand miles it ran like a top. The best part was the price. $20 to the immigrant Asian family placed the title in my hand and the keys in the ignition. The interior looked new and there was only one dent in the car from the door back on the driver's side.
The car went through hell with me driving it, but it never let me down. A couple of girlfriends were talking to me one day and in a weak moment I told them they could paint the car. The result was a car full of dayglo pink and chartreuse peace symbols and other assorted sayings and symbols. Truly not an improvement, but the car still ran and I drove it.
Here is where I made the mistake mentioned in another post. I loaned the car to someone and he shattered the transmission. He was someone I'd only met recently, and he turned out to be one of those guys that couldn't touch anything mechanical without breaking it.
The car ended its life being donated to the auto mechanic shop at my high school. The instructor liked to use rocket engines for teaching the class.
Enter a green and white two tone '54 Olds 88. It was a hulking beast, and at almost a hundred thousand miles it ran like a top. The best part was the price. $20 to the immigrant Asian family placed the title in my hand and the keys in the ignition. The interior looked new and there was only one dent in the car from the door back on the driver's side.
The car went through hell with me driving it, but it never let me down. A couple of girlfriends were talking to me one day and in a weak moment I told them they could paint the car. The result was a car full of dayglo pink and chartreuse peace symbols and other assorted sayings and symbols. Truly not an improvement, but the car still ran and I drove it.
Here is where I made the mistake mentioned in another post. I loaned the car to someone and he shattered the transmission. He was someone I'd only met recently, and he turned out to be one of those guys that couldn't touch anything mechanical without breaking it.
The car ended its life being donated to the auto mechanic shop at my high school. The instructor liked to use rocket engines for teaching the class.
January 10th, 2018, 05:20 PM
#9
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Join Date: Dec 2017
Posts: 49
Suddenly I was in the market for a new (used) car. A friend had an Aunt and the asking price was $30... FIRM. As I drove my new acquisition home I wondered if I'd made a mistake. The '57 Olds 88 wouldn't get past sixty on the freeway and it was popping and sputtering like Jiffy-pop on an overheated stove.
I slapped some new plugs in it, tweaked the timing, and adjusted the carburator, and laid thirty feet of rubber coming out of my driveway. The 100K car's interior was pretty much shredded, so I found some cheap burlap and did what I could with the seats. Right away I had friends interested in buying it. It was beige with a burnt orange stripe and a four barrel.
I drove this car hard and it lasted pretty well, this time the trans problems were my own fault. Since I'd replaced the trans I decided to rebuild the engine in my high school auto shop. The teacher was one of those guys that really surprised everyone the more you got to know him. He was five foot nothing, and built like a brick. Turns out he was a boxer in a previous life. But what really got me was how he got up on stage at a teacher's talent assembly and belted out opera like a professional. He got a standing ovation before he was well into the song, and here were plenty of tears in eyes... and all from a bunch of unsophisticated high school students.
The unnecessary rebuild was a great learning experience, especially when I cranked it up for the first time and the screwdriver holding the choke fell into the linkage and the engine immediately roared well past red line. I didn't want to be over the engine as it blew up, so I dove into the car and turned off the key. Towing the 88 over to the auto shop seemed the right thing to do, and there I found out about another problem. When I started the car with the radiator cap off, it belched and gurgled, spewing coolant over a foot into the air. The shop teacher came over and said, "Loosen up the head bolts 15 pounds, and then torque them in the RIGHT ORDER five pounds over."
The car ran great. What a relief...
I'd race this car on the streets, often losing in block long races. But I had a back-up plan and most of the block long winners would go "double or nothing" on the freeway. I never lost on the freeway. I remember one particular speed contest because I backed down after being ahead of a Boss 302, and getting a sudden loud knock. I backed off, the knock went away, and I stepped into it once again to win the race. The car never knocked again. I suspect a spun bearing that reseated itself, but I don't know as I never opened the engine up.
I had some dangerous times in the '57. At high speed I hit a pothole and the right lower rear a-frame bolt broke. Even worse, I was driving the car down town and the rubber steering column coupler broke... right after I'd gotten off the freeway doing a hundred plus. It's a really different kind of sensation when the steering wheel beneath your hands starts spinning, unconnected to anything.
One night I got a little too frisky with the highway patrol and they used their radios to stop me. Well, actually, they lucked onto me after I'd outrun them and holed up in a cul de sac to let the car cool down. I counted nine cop cars before it was all over. They took me into custody and impounded my car, but not until they asked to see under the hood. One of the HP officers said, "Ya know, our cars (Chryslers) will do a reliable one-forty... and you were pulling away from us." They were kind enough to give my friends a ride home. When I went into court I was making excuses as fast as I could, and the judge cut me off, saying, "So you were speeding..." I said "Yup" and the judge levied a twenty dollar fine. I'd been charged with Speeding, Reckless Driving, and Failure to Stop at the Command of an Officer, so the twenty dollar fine sounded pretty good to me.
Remember that military stint? That was the death of this car. I called up my dad and asked him to pull the radiator drain plug because I knew it didn't have enough antifreeze in it. Somehow he forgot to do this small favor and when I got home the block had a nine-inch crack in it. Three or four cans of Silver Seal plugged the leak and I drove the car several months. I came home from another military activity and my dad had traded the car for a '55 Chevy pick-up.
I saw the car a couple of years later as it crossed an intersection in front of me. I've always wondered if the engine had been replaced or it was running on a Silver Seal band-aid.
I slapped some new plugs in it, tweaked the timing, and adjusted the carburator, and laid thirty feet of rubber coming out of my driveway. The 100K car's interior was pretty much shredded, so I found some cheap burlap and did what I could with the seats. Right away I had friends interested in buying it. It was beige with a burnt orange stripe and a four barrel.
I drove this car hard and it lasted pretty well, this time the trans problems were my own fault. Since I'd replaced the trans I decided to rebuild the engine in my high school auto shop. The teacher was one of those guys that really surprised everyone the more you got to know him. He was five foot nothing, and built like a brick. Turns out he was a boxer in a previous life. But what really got me was how he got up on stage at a teacher's talent assembly and belted out opera like a professional. He got a standing ovation before he was well into the song, and here were plenty of tears in eyes... and all from a bunch of unsophisticated high school students.
The unnecessary rebuild was a great learning experience, especially when I cranked it up for the first time and the screwdriver holding the choke fell into the linkage and the engine immediately roared well past red line. I didn't want to be over the engine as it blew up, so I dove into the car and turned off the key. Towing the 88 over to the auto shop seemed the right thing to do, and there I found out about another problem. When I started the car with the radiator cap off, it belched and gurgled, spewing coolant over a foot into the air. The shop teacher came over and said, "Loosen up the head bolts 15 pounds, and then torque them in the RIGHT ORDER five pounds over."
The car ran great. What a relief...
I'd race this car on the streets, often losing in block long races. But I had a back-up plan and most of the block long winners would go "double or nothing" on the freeway. I never lost on the freeway. I remember one particular speed contest because I backed down after being ahead of a Boss 302, and getting a sudden loud knock. I backed off, the knock went away, and I stepped into it once again to win the race. The car never knocked again. I suspect a spun bearing that reseated itself, but I don't know as I never opened the engine up.
I had some dangerous times in the '57. At high speed I hit a pothole and the right lower rear a-frame bolt broke. Even worse, I was driving the car down town and the rubber steering column coupler broke... right after I'd gotten off the freeway doing a hundred plus. It's a really different kind of sensation when the steering wheel beneath your hands starts spinning, unconnected to anything.
One night I got a little too frisky with the highway patrol and they used their radios to stop me. Well, actually, they lucked onto me after I'd outrun them and holed up in a cul de sac to let the car cool down. I counted nine cop cars before it was all over. They took me into custody and impounded my car, but not until they asked to see under the hood. One of the HP officers said, "Ya know, our cars (Chryslers) will do a reliable one-forty... and you were pulling away from us." They were kind enough to give my friends a ride home. When I went into court I was making excuses as fast as I could, and the judge cut me off, saying, "So you were speeding..." I said "Yup" and the judge levied a twenty dollar fine. I'd been charged with Speeding, Reckless Driving, and Failure to Stop at the Command of an Officer, so the twenty dollar fine sounded pretty good to me.
Remember that military stint? That was the death of this car. I called up my dad and asked him to pull the radiator drain plug because I knew it didn't have enough antifreeze in it. Somehow he forgot to do this small favor and when I got home the block had a nine-inch crack in it. Three or four cans of Silver Seal plugged the leak and I drove the car several months. I came home from another military activity and my dad had traded the car for a '55 Chevy pick-up.
I saw the car a couple of years later as it crossed an intersection in front of me. I've always wondered if the engine had been replaced or it was running on a Silver Seal band-aid.
Last edited by Travlr; January 10th, 2018 at 05:25 PM.
January 11th, 2018, 12:31 PM
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Okay... last story. I bought a brand new '95 Cutlass for my wife. It was a great car other than a power steering pump that needed to be warrantied about 15K. We sold the car with new tires and brakes, the first we'd put on it, at just over 90K. I've never owned a car that went that long on the original tires and brakes.
The big lesson in selling this car was to never under price your vehicle. I offered it to several people for less than blue book, just to get rid of the car, and no one bit. So I doubled the price and put a sign on it out on the highway, and it sold in a couple of days.
The big lesson in selling this car was to never under price your vehicle. I offered it to several people for less than blue book, just to get rid of the car, and no one bit. So I doubled the price and put a sign on it out on the highway, and it sold in a couple of days.
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January 18th, 2010 10:13 PM
