My first was the 54 Ford that got wrecked the night of my sixteenth birthday. I followed that up with a rusted 49 Chevy Torpedo back sedan that I bought with my cousin for $12.50 each. We took possession every other day. When it died we parked it in front of the Marathon station and charged people fifty cents to whack it with a sledge hammer. We got our money back. Then there was another 54 Ford only this one was a sedan and it was also green. I tolerated it because it was $75 and that is all I had. I ripped the 272 out and dropped in a Thunderbird 312. Never did run right after that. Then came the 55 Dodge Royal six cylinder sedan. Hit a chunk of ice one night and sliced the oil pan open. Patched it in a gas station with oil can wrapping and Permatex.
Got tired of that car real fast and bought my aunt's 1957 two-door Pontiac Safari wagon. It was yellow until her brother (who painted Stroh's beer trucks for a living) painted it burgundy. Inside of six months the burgundy paint began to fade from the top down. It looked like a half ripe tomato. That wagon honked and it came in handy at the drive-in. Blew the motor up in the 57 Olds rocket. Then came the black 59 Chevy Impala complete with a dual quad 348 and 45rpm record player. A real screamer and hardly ever lost a street race. I put so many rear ends in that car I had it down to about ten minutes. The police caught me having sex with my girlfriend in the trunk one night. I'll tell that story in another post.
Traded the 59 for a 61 four-door hardtop Bel-Air. I hated that car and sold it right after the honeymoon drive to Mackinaw Island. I had to stop every 50 miles or so to pound the 2x4 wood wedge between the generator and valve cover to keep the belt tight. I really stepped up when I bought the 65 Impala super sport. Strange note here, it was mint green! Got a bug one day and traded the 65 for a 1961 Chrysler two-door hardtop complete with a monster 413 sporting dual quad carbs. It wasn't a G car. If it was I'd still have it.
I came to Vegas in a 1963 Ford Galaxy with no air conditioning. That didn't work so I slid into a 65 Caddy that burned more gas than my Air Force pay would allow. I followed that up with a white on white 65 Lincoln suicide door model. Now that was a car. That's when I realized I was taking after my uncle John and picked up a 1955 Studebaker Commander. I'm going to stop right here because nothing I bought after the Stude mattered much. That includes six jeeps, a Scrambler and a Grand Wagoneer, two six window Chevy Trucks, Cadillac Cimmeron, two Chevy duallys, an 85 Mercedes turbo wagon, a 2003 Ford 350 piece of shit and an 08 Lincoln MKX. I bought that because the grill reminded me of the front of my 65 Lincoln. Nice nostalgic design cue.
I saved the 54 Bel-Air for last. I bought it for $350 and sunk six grand into it. Most of which went into chrome. That car made it on "Entertainment Tonight" when I drove it to Caesars Palace to fly-fish in the fountain. I had to sell it when I went broke in 1995 and the little woman ran off with a false teeth salesman. I wish I had them all back, except the 03 Ford piece of shit and the Cadillac Cimmeron.
Side note: one of the six window trucks, one Chevy dually, the Grand Wagoneer, the 07 Jeep Unlimited and the 03 Ford were all stolen. That's when I decided to pack it in and drive cars that nobody wants, thus an 89 Wrangler and a 98 Jeep Grand Cherokee serve as my daily drivers. So far, so good.
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