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My most memorable car story.


victorialynn2

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I remember a day when my father had a collection of Corvettes. Mint condition, in a barn, cloaked in moving pads. He had been a driver for Atlas Van Lines and luckily had the quilted moving pads on them. One day the goat, who shared a pen with the Vettes, got loose. I went to feed the goat and saw him jumping from Vette to Vette. There was a mint '63 Split Window, '58, '71 and others. I couldn't speak. I ran into the house. 
Don't remember much after except that my dad drove them all outside for inspection. As you can imagine, he knew ever nuance of every car. I'm still alive, so no damage. I was lucky that day. Tell me your story. Let's reminisce about the good times.

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I was 16. There were four of us cruising in my 1931 DB business coupe. It has a huge trunk area. There were three of us in the seat and one in the trunk. We had a garden hose going from the driver's compartment into the trunk to talk through. It was dusk and as I stopped at a stop sign at Woodward Avenue, I see a Royal Oak cop car behind me. O.K....no problem. I had my (all original) lights on. At the second (median strip) stop sign, I see that he is following me. As soon as I crossed over into Huntington Woods, he pulls me over. He comes up to the window and my buddy in the trunk starts yelling through the hose, "Hey, Keiser....what's going on out there? Why are we stopped? Hey, Keiser....What's going on?" The officer had pulled me over because of a taillight out. My ONLY taillight. I went to the back of the car and whacked on the top of the light and it lit. The cop says, "O.K. You had better get the car home and fix that before you get rear-ended." He never did ask about the "voice" coming through the hose. I am pretty certain he knew what was going on.... 

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Edited by keiser31 (see edit history)
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No sure this is the most memorable, to many of them to pick one, but the trunk passenger reminded me of one. I had a 61 Metropolitan at college, one of only a couple of people in our group that had a car so it was usually overloaded whenever we went somewhere. It was common to stuff 3 in the front seat 2 in the back (if you have ever been in the back seat of a Met you know that was cozy) and one in the trunk (yep it is possible). My one friend that was over 6 foot tall but was a bean pole and very flexible liked the trunk better than the other seating if we were at capacity. He would fold himself up and keep a rag in the latch so he could open the trunk himself. Often when at a traffic light he would pop the trunk open and sit up for a minute and wave at the car behind us. Needless to say when we parked and guys started climbing out the only thing we were missing was the clown makeup.

 

When it was time to head home at Christmas time I had several broken leaf springs. I wrapped what remaining springs & pieces of springs I had with wire to hold everything together and limped the 165 miles home. Spent some time at the junkyard and found some heavier springs that were the right size, probably from a trailer, and swapped out the broken ones.

 

We did manage to get one or two more in the Met, but just to see if we could, no way I could have driven as smushed together as we were. We were a lot thinner in the mid 60s.

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45 minutes ago, Jim Bollman said:

No sure this is the most memorable, to many of them to pick one, but the trunk passenger reminded me of one. I had a 61 Metropolitan at college, one of only a couple of people in our group that had a car so it was usually overloaded whenever we went somewhere. It was common to stuff 3 in the front seat 2 in the back (if you have ever been in the back seat of a Met you know that was cozy) and one in the trunk (yep it is possible). My one friend that was over 6 foot tall but was a bean pole and very flexible liked the trunk better than the other seating if we were at capacity. He would fold himself up and keep a rag in the latch so he could open the trunk himself. Often when at a traffic light he would pop the trunk open and sit up for a minute and wave at the car behind us. Needless to say when we parked and guys started climbing out the only thing we were missing was the clown makeup.

 

When it was time to head home at Christmas time I had several broken leaf springs. I wrapped what remaining springs & pieces of springs I had with wire to hold everything together and limped the 165 miles home. Spent some time at the junkyard and found some heavier springs that were the right size, probably from a trailer, and swapped out the broken ones.

 

We did manage to get one or two more in the Met, but just to see if we could, no way I could have driven as smushed together as we were. We were a lot thinner in the mid 60s.

Good story!

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Remember in college daze getting seven people in and on an XK-150s...

 

Most memorable had to be my Honeymoon on a Water Buffalo. Was in December and trailered bike from Indiana to Florida then parked the wagon and we took off on the 750 with camping gear - made it all the way to Key West (was before the current residents) and had a great time.

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I was 17 years old and about one month from High School graduation. My current car was a 1957 Chevy 210 four door, V8, stick, and I was holding a ticket for a blown muffler with the cost of that and a few other repairs. Immediate plans were to continue working at my Grandfather's tire shop and used car lot. Imminent was was military service, voluntary or involuntary-1966, and a vague idea of becoming an English teacher.

I didn't like the Chevy. I had already owned a '58 and the '57 seemed like a truck by comparison. A replacement car was in the wind and my Dad and I were both looking. He struck first. The Ford dealer in the next town over had, what he thought was the perfect car for me, a 1961 Ford 4 door 6 stick full sized station wagon. I seem to remember it being $450 or $500. It was brown and boring, but we rode over to look. Got there and it was brown and boring.

I had already been told there was not 327 high performance or 409 in my future, but the Ford wagon didn't even appeal to my Dad. He knew that. His all time dream car was the Austin-Healey A-100. So we could click under the right circumstances. It was still early that evening so I offered to stop at the Buick dealership in our town. They had a '61 AH 3000 in the front line. It was outside my budget at something like $1400, but we were just looking.

We got there and he liked the AH 3000 just like I did and he knew the salesman.

Next to the building was a fresh trade that caught both our attention. This '60 Invicta.

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It had come in that day and was priced at $600. I kept my mouth zipped and didn't say anything about the 401, but later he admitted he knew. I signed the papers that night and applied for a one year car loan at $50 per month and the fees as down payment.

The last few weeks of school I got teased about driving my parent's car and putting it in the student's parking lot. It was a good car and got fully speed tested. AND it was legally inspected! Even back then I knew where to go for the lick 'em stick 'em inspection.

Prior to buying the Buick I had driven my own cars all that Senior year, starting with a '50 Buick 2 door series 40 fastback, a '55 Pontiac, a '49 Hudson, a '58 Biscayne, and the '57 Chevy. The '60 Invicta stuck with me most of the way through 4 years in the Navy. Then I slid through some snowy curves while home on leave and took out the left rear quarter. I remember the story about getting it like it was yesterday, of course, my white '60 is only a hundred and thirty feet away, so I was only without a '60 Buick from January 1969 until May 2003. not a long time.

Bernie

Edited by 60FlatTop (see edit history)
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A long time ago I had a 1970 Plymouth Fury II ex police car. 383, 4 barrel, automatic. 4 door sedan. A friend and I(this about 1972 or so) had driven to Omaha to be in  his brother's wedding.and on the way back on I-80 we were cruising about 95 or so going east. As we passed an underpass I noticed a Police car sitting in the median with radar hanging on the right side rear window. As we passed the car the cop was looking at me and smiling. I thought we were doomed. Looking ahead I saw several State Police cars pulling drivers over. However they  had made a critical error in laying out their trap. Just before the stop cars was an exit into a rest area. Ever gone into a rest area at 80 mph?  We slid to a stop and ran to the bathroom(I could still run in those days).  We stayed in the bathroom for 20 minutes and then sauntered out. Next to our car a man was sitting on the hood of his car watching the police at work. I asked him"You too" Yep he says, just missed getting stopped. We got into the old Plymouth and snuck out onto the expressway hiding on the right side of a semi that was leaving the rest area. And of course soon was again 90 again figuring that they wouldn't be another speed trap for a while. And amazingly enough, we were right. No more cops until the turnoff for Chicago. (I was saving this story for the thread about "Why I am not already dead")

Edited by plymouthcranbrook (see edit history)
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So, let me set the scene for this story.

Growing up with family having cottages on the north Shore of Lake Erie outside of Leamington, Ontario where the H.J. Heinz company existed since the late 1800's decided to take a summer job in that area. Dad having given me his 1958 Buick Limited the winter before, it had that summer blown a hydraulic power steering line. I brought it to UAP and they said it would be ready on Friday.

With work ending a 4 and them closing at 5 it was tight but figured I could make it and have my car up and running for the weekend. Dad let me use his 1964 Olds Dynamic 88 which had a posi-traction rear end and it was a peppy car compared to my dynaflow transmission in the Limited.

Here is where the memorable part starts.

Keep in mind I'm 16, I race to get to UAP and before I can get out of the car I see a guy inside locking the front door! :o With paper and cash in hand and me pleading through the glass to let me in, No deal, No way! :angry: 

It had rained about an hour before finishing work and as I backed out of their gravel driveway I go through a puddle of water. Once on the road my anger comes out and I hit the gas. Those bias ply tires started to squeal and all I see is a cloud of smoke growing as I take off to the stop light up the road! Then..... the next thing I see in the rear view mirror, just like a movie, is flashing lights coming out of that cloud of smoke and then hear the siren. 

Now I'm stopped at the light in the left turn lane and when it goes green (with the flashing lights still going) I proceed on and stop after going around the corner. It was right in front of the H.J. Heinz Employee entrance and it was shift change! When the officer pulled up and looked at me the first words out of his mouth were, "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DRIVING, A HOT ROD!" This was 1971 and being a small town was pretty sure I would be seeing this fellow a lot in the future of my driving life. It was no Sir, yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir and scared about the possible ticket I was going to get.

After getting my license and insurance and what seemed like an eternity he comes back and hands me my papers saying, "I'm going to give you a break this time young man because I see you have only had your license for three months and emphasised my assumption we would likely see each other again if I continued to drive like that!" 

Oh Thank you Sir, again sorry Sir and now fully embarrassed by all the employees exiting Heinz I slowly went to the cottages and had a swim never saying anything to dad.

 

P.S. Never met that kind Officer again. 

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I ordered this '72 Gremlin from the factory with the V8, Manual 3 speed Tanny, Posi rear, quick ratio steering and Heavy Duty Suspension to go Auto Cross racing, and as my daily driver. E Stock qualified, I had  a total of 8 First place wins in a class that included BMW 2002s, Datson Roadsters, Solid Axle Corvettes, Corvairs, etc. The only mods, as allowed, were bigger tires, a rear roll bar and traction bars to stop rear wheel hoping under hard braking. I also clamped the front springs down one coil height and raced with a full tank of gas to give the car 50/50 weight balance and neutral steering.  The BMW guys were use to Winning and called foul all the time but the rules were never broken. The engine was stock 2 Barrel, 150HP which at the advice of an AMC Mechanic, I advanced the timing 10 degrees and change the clutch from a 10" plate to an 11".  Sadly, most Auto Cross Racing in Md, Va, and Pa was shut down with the removal of the Blue Laws, that kept the Mall Parking Lots where we race,Closed on Sundays and the stores were allowed to Open.  Loved the Gremlin and is still my most memorable car.

 

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2 hours ago, alsancle said:

Doug, have you ever heard of a Randall Gremlin?

I

Yes Randall was AMC's answer to Chevy's Yankel, sort of. They dropped Modified 401 CI  engines, the biggest CI AMC made, in Gremlins. When I ordered my Gremlin X I asked the dealer to put a 360CI V8 and 4 Speed in it but they said the Federal Regulations would not allow them to do it, however Randel could take the 304CI engines out after the cars were Titled and replace it with a 401.

Actually though I think the fastest AMC's ever were the (51) Red, White and Blue  AMX's built by Hurst for Dealer Show Room Display and Drag Racing, using highly modified 390CI engines. They could not be titled for the street in '69 and were running 10 second quarter mile times.  

Edited by Doug Novak (see edit history)
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ok, my friend and i after a few adult beverages, deceided we would take a road trip to new york from delaware, up the jersey turnpike in a somewhat sketchy 1961 dodge(i think it was a polara).  we got our toll ticket and headed off into the night. my friend climbed into the back seat to take a nap, and i was driving. the first problem i noticed with the dodge was that the dash lights didn't work. no big deal, i just couldn't tell how fast i was going. after about an hour, i got curious, so when i went to light a cigarette, and since safety was important to me, i slowed down a bit and held the lighter by the speedometer. was a little surprised that i was doing 85. a couple of miles up the road, the oil light came on. we were right at one of the service centers, so we pulled in and dumped a couple quarts into the dodge. my friend woke up, and got behind the wheel (his car) and we resumed our journey. ten minutes later, a jersey turnpike cop pulled us over to check our registration. he said there was a report of a dodge like ours stolen. after we provided proof of ownership, as an afterthought, he asked to see our time-stamped toll ticket. he then informed us we were 25 minutes AHEAD of schedule, was ready to give my friend a speeding ticket.. he let us slide but, it was close.

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ref #17

Guess there was a rule change: in '78-'79 my V8 Sunbird (66 built) was winning F/S SCCA Solo II (Fla Region 2x, Florida State, SE Div. SCCA). Car was always faster than the driver. Gave the Porsches fits. Got so could no longer win. just lose.

 

ps no tramp, had a factory torque tube running from the axle to the tranny.

 

Edited by padgett (see edit history)
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10 hours ago, padgett said:

ref #17

Guess there was a rule change: in '78-'79 my V8 Sunbird (66 built) was winning F/S SCCA Solo II (Fla Region 2x, Florida State, SE Div. SCCA). Car was always faster than the driver. Gave the Porsches fits. Got so could no longer win. just lose.

 

ps no tramp, had a factory torque tube running from the axle to the tranny.

 

 

 

I'm not sure if the Class Changes occurred or if the Auto Cross Classes were same as IMSA or SCCA back then. The Gremiln SCCA/IMSA cars did very well back in the early 70's. They actually were Inline Six modified engines, the cars were Red White and Blue driven by George Alderman and Amos Johnson. There was a third Gremlin with these guys but don't remember who the driver was. I had some pictures of them finishing First, Second and Third against mostly BMW's in 1974, that were published in the "Stop Watcher" sentinel. This one was at the Daytona Goodrich Radial Challenge it's George's Car and he and Bill Scott shared driving. Gremlins First and Second, BMW 2002s Third and Fourth. Never understand why the Gremlin was and still is so under appreciated. 

 

Coolest thing in this picture is he's lifting the right rear wheel in the turn going up hill.

 

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Edited by Doug Novak
saw something (see edit history)
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That 53 Studebaker in the first car discussion.

The stupid thing had an armrest in the middle of the back seat that didn't fold out of the way.

I am so happy that I was way more flexible then as I am now. That girlfriend was too.

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In 1976, after high school graduation, I did a road trip to Los Angeles with my best friend.   Prior to this trip, I had acquired a 1961 Oldsmobile Starfire convertible and went through it doing everything, engine, transmission, brakes, tires, paint, and a new convertible top.    My friend had joined the Army and was being sent to Germany.   We decided to have one last blast together and we did a road trip to Los Angeles driving down on highway 1 along the California coastline from Sacramento.   We took my 1961 Oldsmobile because it had been completely gone through and was the perfect machine for a road trip.  

Everything went without a hitch and after a couple of days on the road we ended up in Burbank checking into a hotel near the studio used for filming the Johnny Carson show.    The next morning, we got up before dawn to get in line for the free tickets to the Johnny Carson show.   Unfortunately, the morning included a very heavy rainstorm and when we arrived at the Carson studio there were already more people in line, in the rain, than the number of tickets that would be given out.   That plan busted, we left Burbank driving through the pouring rain headed to Anaheim and Disneyland.   As I was driving through some hills, on a four lane expressway, I came around a curve in the road just as a landslide came down the side of the hill with large jagged rocks landing in the roadway.  I was unable to avoid the rocks and one tore open the sidewall of the left front tire which instantly went flat.    

I limped off the expressway onto a side road.   The rain was pouring down and there was not a single building in sight.   My buddy refused to get out of the car to help which left me to get soaked in the rain changing the flat tire.  My initial frustration turned to hopelessness when I opened the truck and found that my spare tire was missing.  I had forgotten to put it back in the trunk, prior to the road trip, when I removed it to make more room when I hauled a TV for my mother.   The only thing I could do was get the flat off the car and look for a tire shop to buy a new tire.   By the time the flat tire was off the car I was soaked to the skin and started walking down the road carrying the muddy tire and wheel looking for a place to buy a tire.    

Not long after I started walking along the expressway, a car pulled up and the guy driving asked if I needed help.   I explained my predicament and he got out and placed my flat tire in the trunk and drove me to the nearest gas station – which happened to be several miles away.   My good Samaritan stayed with me while a new tire was mounted and insisted on driving me back to my car.   On the way back to the car he stopped and bought hot drinks for myself and my buddy.  

When we returned to my car the rain was still coming down so hard it was actually dripping through the new convertible top.   My friend, who did not want to get wet and insisted on staying in the car, got wet after all.   The good Samaritan refused except any reimbursement for his time and efforts on our behalf and only asked me to “pass it on down the line” when someone else needs help. 

Yes, I have had occasion to help other stranded motorist over the years which then reminds me of the 1976 road trip with my best friend in a 1961 Oldsmobile Starfire convertible.

Attached is a picture of the 61 Oldsmobile at the time I sold it a few years after the road trip.  It is one of the cars I am sorry I sold.  

1961 Oldsmobile Starfire.jpg

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In 1974, I was driving my 1970 Challenger Convertible to visit a college friend for the weekend.  I took back roads to enjoy the drive.  In a small town in NC, I pulled over to check the map for my next turns.  As I'm intently looking at the map, an older man came up to the car and asked if I knew the way to Glory.  I said no, but I have a map and will help you find it.  He said "No, have you been saved"................

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Omigosh......most memorable car story?  I'm not sure I have a most-memorable!  Not that I don't have some awesome memories of cars I've had, cars from my childhood, etc., of course ... but cars have been so much my whole life that, for me, every car story is a "most memorable".  Yeah, I know how that sounds ... but it's true.  When I was a child, I got into cars big time because they were the 1 thing I could really play with, since I wasn't very active.  I didn't-couldn't play sports (except for soccer), so I had a lot of free time on my hands ... & cars were it.  I'd guess that my parents would say my most memorable car story is when they got the car that started my automotive love affair.  I was about 3 years old & they traded in Dad's 1968 impala coupe for a 1976 monte carlo.  Soon after they brought that car home, I started pointing at other cars like ours & saying "arlo"........

 

I posted another story (along with a pic of it) here:
http://www.oldcarsstronghearts.com/2015/09/10/daily-dose-theory-thu-34/

 

 

Cort, www.oldcarsstronghearts.com
pig&cowValves.paceMaker * 1979 CC to 2003 MGM + 81mc

"Has time re-written every line?" | Barbara Streisand | 'The Way We Were'

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There are a couple of car events that stand out in my memory.

 

The first was in 1964 when my father and I took a road trip from Brooklyn to Niagara Falls in our '52 Plymouth.   It developed a rod knock somewhere east of Buffalo and we pulled into a gas station for advice.  The attendant recommended we go to Stanley Stauba's junk yard in Darien Center about 20 miles up the road.  He was noted for being a fair and honest businessman.   Stanley didn't have any running cars he felt would make the trip, but did have another Plymouth with a good engine.  My father made a deal to have the engine swapped at a local repair shop.  The next day, the repair shop owner dropped us at a restaurant several miles up the road and, after several hours, my father got worried and  we began walking back to the garage.   After walking for a while, a car came to a screeching halt near us.  It was the gas station attendant who had recommended the junkyard the previous day.  He drove us to the repair shop where we waited for the swap to be completed, then continued with our trip.    The engine swap, including engine and labor, came to $46.00!

 

The second event also took place in Western New York. Fast-forward to the late 1970's.   I bought a 1975 Ford Torino in Buffalo to flip from a government sealed-bid sale.  I was living at home in Staten Island, having graduated from the University of Buffalo.  I flew to Buffalo and stayed with friends who were still attending UB. The Torino battery died, and none of my friends had a car so I could get another one.  My friends lived on a residential street and, as I looked under the hood, someone called out to me from an upstairs porch a few houses away.   After I explained the situation, this complete stranger reached into his pocket and threw me the keys to his Monte Carlo.  I drove to the nearest K-Kart, bought a battery, and installed it in the Torino.  I also put a few dollars of gas in the Monte as a thank-you.  An amazing act of kindness that i still remember today!

 

 

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One Sunday afternoon in 1970, I had my mother’s 59 Pontiac Bonneville loaded with some of my buddies.  A huge car it was, and there was no way that car would burn rubber from a dead stop.  This didn’t stop my buddies from egging me on to “jack it up” at a traffic light.  Jack it up meant to hold one foot on the brake pedal while pushing the accelerator down till the rear wheels would break loose.  I had never tried this before, so I did.  Of course, the rear wheels would not break loose.  I quit trying and proceeded on to the next traffic light.  No luck on jacking it up this time, either.  I gave up and waited on the green light.

 

When I took off on the green light, the car suddenly leapt forward and the accelerator pedal went to the floor.  We were all yelling, and I was trying to pull the gas pedal back with the toe of my shoe.  The car shifted into second and the pedal returned to the normal position.  None of us could figure out why that had happened.

 

I drove very cautiously the rest of that day and I don’t believe this happened again - that day.  I parked Mom’s car in the carport, and I didn’t mention the episodes with the floored gas pedal.

 

Monday morning, Mom drove the car to work and then back home that evening.  When she got home, she confronted me about the car.  Apparently, the car had done the same thing to her a couple of times that day.  She asked me what had happened to the car while I was driving it, since it had not been doing this previously.

 

I thought really hard, and said, “Well, it MIGHT have done that once, but I didn’t really think anything about it.  That evening, Dad took the car to our mechanic who diagnosed the problem as broken motor mounts.  The engine would raise up off the mounts under anything other than a very slow start, and, this in turn would cause the accelerator linkage to somehow go wide open.  Then, the transmission shifting from first to second gear allowed the engine to sit back down on the mounts, putting the linkage back in normal position.  The mechanic eyed me suspiciously, asking me all the right questions about how the mounts might have gotten broken.  I never did admit to it, though I’m ashamed about it to this day.

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Good thing my Mom and Dad will never hear of any of the things I did with their cars. Woodward, Avenue....4 lanes north and 4 lanes south with a traffic light every 1/2 mile. What could possibly go wrong with a kid and his parent's car on a Saturday night?

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Thanks Dosmo, what you described explains something that I could not figure out for years. Back in High School one morning I was just pulling into the entrance road that goes up a steep hill to the student parking. One of the guys was showing off his Dad's brand new '68 Red Bonneville Convertible. I doubt that his Dad knew he had it, or ever worst maybe he did. He hit the gas to peal out and it took off full speed unstoppable until it did a couple donuts and then proceeded to jump the curb and climb up the steep grassy hill in front of the school.  He finally came to a stop when the car crashed into the metal step railings at the top of the hill. Only the car was hurt and I don't know what happened next because I was late for class.

Quote

 

 

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The only time I ever drove my dads car without him in it was when the drivers license guy was giving me my driving test.

The deal was that I had to buy my own cars and my own insurance. Well, insurance wasn't required back then, then when it was I was able to get my license insured for liability on anything I drove.

Of coarse they made that illegal after awhile.

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On 2/1/2017 at 4:09 PM, Jim Bollman said:

No sure this is the most memorable, to many of them to pick one, but the trunk passenger reminded me of one. I had a 61 Metropolitan at college, one of only a couple of people in our group that had a car so it was usually overloaded whenever we went somewhere. It was common to stuff 3 in the front seat 2 in the back (if you have ever been in the back seat of a Met you know that was cozy) and one in the trunk (yep it is possible). My one friend that was over 6 foot tall but was a bean pole and very flexible liked the trunk better than the other seating if we were at capacity. He would fold himself up and keep a rag in the latch so he could open the trunk himself. Often when at a traffic light he would pop the trunk open and sit up for a minute and wave at the car behind us. Needless to say when we parked and guys started climbing out the only thing we were missing was the clown makeup.

 

When it was time to head home at Christmas time I had several broken leaf springs. I wrapped what remaining springs & pieces of springs I had with wire to hold everything together and limped the 165 miles home. Spent some time at the junkyard and found some heavier springs that were the right size, probably from a trailer, and swapped out the broken ones.

 

We did manage to get one or two more in the Met, but just to see if we could, no way I could have driven as smushed together as we were. We were a lot thinner in the mid 60s.

Jim, I had a Metro in college, too. In '76 I got a '62 AMC Metro. You and I are obviously the sons of millionaires to have been roaring around in 55 HP exotic cars like that:)! Seriously, I had a much greater success with women after I got it. Maybe it was being the only man on campus with a Metro, or maybe they felt sorry for me:D.

Once I got 6 people in the car for a run to McDonalds. You're right, the back seat is microscopic. I had it for 2 days before I discovered the little 1"-thick rectangles posing as upholstery(one's a battery access door and one's an access to the little trunk).

 

About the only insane/stupid thing I remember as a youth was hanging around with the neighbor kids, who were all gearheads, and, uhh, abetting them one Saturday afternoon. Jimmy had a '55 Chevrolet with a 396 in it, dual 4-barrels and a cross-ram manifold; and I had an army surplus cargo parachute with an 8' spread. We rigged the chute to the rear bumper as well as a bunch of South Jersey teenagers could and 4 of us piled in. Jimmy's plan was to start at the end of our dead-end street til we got around the only curve, really step on it, then have me yank on a rope to pop the chute while doing a wheel-stand. 2 blocks to de-accellerate, and he could get in some good practice for Atco Dragway nearby. It didn't work out like we hoped. The car got up to speed, we went around the corner, then Jimmy floored it til the front bumper was up in the air about 3 feet. I pulled on the manila rope, the chute popped out but failed to deploy, and we sailed right by a cop car while doing a wheel-stand, dragging a deflated parachute down the asphalt. The policeman had backed up into a vacant lot to fill out paperwork before his shift was over. He lived on our street and knew Jimmy really well. No arrests or pursuit. Just had a hand over his face as we went by!

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Dosmo: that broken motor mount/sticking gas pedal happened to me in a 67 Camaro and was the subject of the first factory recall I was aware of. At the time throttle linkages were rods and levers, not cables and the GM fix was a chain on the motor mount that limited how far the engine could move if the rubber broke.

 

" I was able to get my license insured for liability on anything I drove. " think you need a dealer license for that now.

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3 hours ago, padgett said:

Dosmo: that broken motor mount/sticking gas pedal happened to me in a 67 Camaro and was the subject of the first factory recall I was aware of. At the time throttle linkages were rods and levers, not cables and the GM fix was a chain on the motor mount that limited how far the engine could move if the rubber broke.

 

" I was able to get my license insured for liability on anything I drove. " think you need a dealer license for that now.

Another  gas pedal incident that I recall involved my 1960 Studebaker Lark Station Wagon.  Those familiar with Studebaker products of the 50s and 60s know that the gas pedal linkage contained an aluminum rod with a pin and cotter key on one end and on the other end, the rod took on a ball shape.  The end with the cotter key end hooked up to the linkage outside the passenger compartment, while the end with the ball was inside the car, with the ball end snapping into the gas pedal itself.  This aluminum rod was rather loosely held in place through the floorboard opening by a rubber boot.  This worked okay as long as the boot was in good condition.  My Lark was approaching 10 years old when I got it, so the boot had already deteriorated somewhat, and its condition was not helped by the fact that I dogged the car constantly, flooring the gas pedal many times on any given day.

 

The Lark was already having some problems with the demon rust, so the gas pedal mounting itself eventually rusted to the point that it was no longer attached to the floorboard.  As I looked at this development, I unsnapped the pedal from the aluminum rod.  Even without the pedal, the boot continued to hold the rod in position so that I could simply put my foot on the rod and press down, and it pretty much worked like it did before.  Over the course of a few days, I stomped on the rod so much that the boot started to give way a little more each day, until the rod was finally no longer centered in the floorboard opening, but was instead just resting on the edge of the hole.

 

One night, I floored the car as I took off from a dead stop.  Suddenly, I couldn't feel the rod, no sense of being connected to the accelerator linkage at all.  I coasted over to the side of the street, stopped and got down where I could see.  The aluminum rod was nowhere in sight.  Nothing there but the hole in the floorboard.  I had stomped the rod so much that the boot had completely disintegrated, and had bent the rod in such a way that it slipped completely through the hole, leaving the rod dangling from the end attached to the linkage.  A guy that was with me somehow managed to reach his fingers through the hole and fish the rod back into the passenger compartment.  I had to drive the car very cautiously for the next few days till I was able to find another aluminum rod and boot.  This problem continued to dog the car, but the car itself didn't last that much longer under the onslaught of incredibly rough treatment it received from my driving tactics.

 

So, yes, I would heartily concur that the advent of cables as compared to rods and levers was a quantum leap forward when the topic concerns  carburetor/accelerator pedal linkages. 

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