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Memories around cars growing up

Auggie56

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I lived in Hollywood Fla, in 1954'. My uncles brother took us both out in his, red 55' T-Bird and while was in my uncles lap, he told me to stand up and hold onto the top of the windshield, as we drove down the "Sunshine Parkway" which was the main highway in Eastern Fla. Quite the thrill for a five year old.


Got one post it.
 
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I'm tired just thinking about listing all the memories around cars growing up I have. I'd need to be retired to have the time to list them all...
 
when I was young we had Mopar cars and Ford trucks. My dad lost his ring finger in a farm accident. He said the worst part was the 120 mph ride to the ER in that dam Roadrunner.
 
My earliest recollection was when a friend of Dad's stopped by the summer of 1961 with a big Harley. He sat me on the gas tank and took me for a ride around the block. I was 11 at the time and vividly remember the sounds, the wind, the thrill of that ride. That was it: I had to get a motor scooter when I turned 15. Started saving paper route money that same summer. I'm still riding. Currently own a dozen bikes of various makes and styles and love them all.

Fall of 1962, Dad bought a 63 Dodge wagon with a 361 in it. The first thing he did was put it up on blocks and have me brush paint the entire underside with zinc chromate primer. Dad worked for the county and Sunday mornings after early church we'd hit all the county beaches to clean up the rest rooms for Sunday picnic types. They really were just out houses. (some of the stuff we cleaned up defied the laws of physics) Anyway, I loved going along because when we were done he'd take the car out on an isolated stretch of highway and open it up. That car seems to fly as far as I was concerned. Dad discovered if he cracked the tail gate window just about an inch he could get a couple more mph out of the car, although the fumes that got sucked inside always gave me a headache.

1964: Grandma bought a new 64 Chrysler Newport. It was a 383 A/T car. At that time one of her sons was still living at home with her. A real obnoxious know it all. He'd borrow the Chrysler all the time and take it out to see how much rubber he could leave on the road ways. He picked me up a couple times and took me along. It really was amazing how that car would burn the right rear tire. Grandma kept bitching about how hard that car was on tires.

That summer a buddie's older brother went in service and left his 56 Plymouth parked behind some pine trees in the back yard. We found the keys in his room. Late at night we'd push the car out of the yard, down the alley and go joy riding. The car had a V8 in it and to us it felt fast as heck. I remember pooling our money to put a couple dollars worth of gas in the thing. The challenge was to have the oldest looking of us all drive into the station and go in to pay, so that the cashier wouldn't question our being old enough to drive.

One night about 5 of us were in the car, pulled in to the local station. Someone else was driving. We pull up to the pumps and realize there's a squad car sitting next to the building. Everyone panics. We did manage to put the requisite $2.00 worth of gas in the car, but no one wanted to go in to pay. I figured we'd get busted for sure if we milled around anymore than we already had. I remembered Dad saying one time, 'just pretend like you know what you're doing'. I don't now remember what prompted him saying that, but it came to mind at the time. I took the money, went in and paid and walked back out to the car, jumped in and started it up while discreetly signaling everyone to hurry up and get into the car. Managed to drive away without being stopped.

Also that summer an Aunt had a 55 Chevy. She was a neat lady and Mom got along well with her. She'd drive over to go shopping with Mom and park the 55 out front. Those year Chevy's had the 'off' and 'lock' position for the ignition switch. Kathy didn't know the difference and always stopped at the off position. One time while they were gone I discovered this and was able to start the car up. Had a great time driving around the neighborhood for a couple hours. Knew enough to get back and park it so it would cool off some before she returned. I would ask Mom regularly when she and Kathy were going out again. Kathy couldn't figure out why her Chevy was going through so much gas. That one was a 265 car but had a power glide in it so it was something of a dog, but it was wheels!

Final story: that same summer me and a buddy both had paper routes. His Dad had a 53 Ford and Mike discovered where he kept the keys. We'd been talking about how neat it would be to have a car to do the early morning route, so Mike borrowed the keys at 4:00AM one morning. We pushed the car down the street a bit, started it up and used it to do both routes. We were done in record time! Spent the next hour driving all over heck. That became a regular process for us. Our folks were both wondering why the routes were taking more time than normal. That experience cemented it for us: we needed to get a car of our own. We pooled our money and bought a 54 Plymouth. Had a local delinquent who was old enough sign the papers and we were in business! Parked the car around the corner at the end of the block.

Pretty soon we were driving around evenings, mornings, any time it was dark out. Lasted about a month. My buddy loaned the car to another kid, who drove it to his house to get something he'd forgotten at home. His Dad saw him driving the car and called the cops. The proverbial **** hit the fan at that point. End of car.
 
Not a car, but a boat... ...that made me fall in love with cars.

My dad has a 71 DiMarco flatbotom that I grew up going to the lake in. learned to ski, learned to love the waer, have tons of good core memories ted to those anual trips. It has a 427 Ford FE from a 63 Galaxie. Factory dual quads. Edelbrock wet-stacks and engine mounts. Neovane cam-driven water pump. The sound of the 427 coming out of the aluminum megaphones with the vaporizing water muffling the otherwise open header sound into what I can only describe as a slightly muted roar, has never quit ringing in the back of my head. This picture was 3 years ago with my dad giving 4 of my kiddos a ride... and another from when I was a kid.

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I remember as a kid growing up in the 70's when any of the neighbors bought or brought a new car home working for the big 3. The whole neighborhood was over checking it out. Inside, outside, under the hood. These days no-one even knows if a neighbor bought a new car or not. They all look the alike.
 
I remember the day Dad brought his Roadrunner home, it was like a celebrity showed up in our driveway. Everybody in the neighborhood loved that car, including my Dads buddy Bob. He had a 70 Hemi GTX, and he and Dad would take their cars over to Telegraph Rd and cause trouble. Try as he might, Bob could just not beat Dads RR. He would go home mad, come back a week or so later with something done to his car, and off they’d go again. I distinctly remember my brother and I sliding under the front of Bobs car, and gazing in awe at the big chrome oil pan that Bob had put on there. The Roadrunner left a lifelong love for Mopars to my brother and I, who still love Mopars to this day.

Not sure what was done to Dads car by the factory, but here’s a copy of his time slip as runner up at the 1970 Summernationals, in the e Purestock class.

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I remember the day Dad brought his Roadrunner home, it was like a celebrity showed up in our driveway. Everybody in the neighborhood loved that car, including my Dads buddy Bob. He had a 70 Hemi GTX, and he and Dad would take their cars over to Telegraph Rd and cause trouble. Try as he might, Bob could just not beat Dads RR. He would go home mad, come back a week or so later with something done to his car, and off they’d go again. I distinctly remember my brother and I sliding under the front of Bobs car, and gazing in awe at the big chrome oil pan that Bob had put on there. The Roadrunner left a lifelong love for Mopars to my brother and I, who still love Mopars to this day.

Not sure what was done to Dads car by the factory, but here’s a copy of his time slip as runner up at the 1970 Summernationals, in the e Purestock class.

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Now that's a great memory and reason to be into Mopars :thumbsup:
 
Not a Mopar but in 54 my parents bought a new 54 Ford sedan, 6 cyl/3 speed stick. I think it was the only new car my parents bought until maybe 10 years ago but my Dad usually had a newer company car. My mother was constantly letting it idle with us in the car when she would run an errand or stop to get out and talk to a friend or neighbor, so I was regularly indoctrinated what I should do (and not do) if it started to roll away with us in it. We spent many an hour riding around standing up in the seat and laying in the back package shelf.

Then she bought a used 60 Ford Fairlane that was a gutless 292/cruisematic with brakes that were good for 1/2 of a panic stop. Found that out as I learned to drive in it in the mid-60s, fortunately w/o negative consequences. This tank was was so large, it barely cleared our 7 ft wide garage doors - had about an inch to spare on both sides. With the turned out fins it wasn’t long before Mom had clearance gouges established in both side door frame members. She once took out the door of an armored bank truck that was flung open into her lane and reported that the truck suffered worse than the 60 Ford. Once I had my license a friend and I took it out with determination to get it to squeal the tires. It would do that fine going around corners but in acceleration - forget it. Finally out on a deserted piece of highway I decide this thing was going to spin a tire if it took killing it. So I practiced revs in neutral and neutral drops into gear. Higher and higher I reved it (probably all of 2,000 rpm’s) until on one neutral drop we finally got a discernible tire chirp. We decided that was the most we could get but we were satisfied with some evidence of tire spin so we gave up. A few months later I took some friends one evening, down to a local cinema in it to see Easy Rider. Upon coming out after the movie we found 2 to 3 inches of fresh snow fall and a largely empty mall parking lot. Too good to resist - I began practicing donuts in the lot while we were all probably all laughing hysterically. All good for a few moments but then something obviously took a turn for the worse and upon exiting the car we found two tires rolled on the rims and flat. With one spare there was nothing we could do but call good old Dad to come down and give us a hand. He brought another tire and changed 2 tires for us. Funny thing is I don’t recall him making any real comment or chewing me out. During that stage of my youth he seemed to be of a mind that as long as I didn’t hurt anyone or anything too badly, he might as well get it out of his system now. But I think my Mom was glad when I finally got my own car, a 1964 383 black Sport Fury. But then my younger Sister came of driving age and the old 60 gained another 100 lbs of bondo from her misadventures.
 
The few years before getting my license were the slowest of my life. Worse was after my elder brother got his and buying a ’65 GTO. Damn, how envious I was when his car buds came over in their nice rides and sometimes with their dates. End of our driveway looked like the starting line at a drag strip with the rubber laid down.

My mother’s ’57 T-Bird was parked in the garage for eventual restoring, getting a start on it. My brother drove it for a while before getting his goat before stripping it down. It was still drivable though all the exterior trim was off, including the lights. Was itching to drive so bad. I’d sneak the Bird out in the summer when the folks were at work and drive it around the subdivision. Was lucky the police didn’t snag me as every friggin time I took my go-cart on the streets – I got caught. I’d have to push the cart back home with the cop following me. 3rd time the officer told me that was it kid, one more time and we’re confiscating it.

My dear mom was going to hand the Bird over to me; but I found a sweet deal on a ’67 GTO and that was it for the old Bird. She got tired of it sitting in the garage and sold it cheap! She must a got 50 phone calls on it and first guy out to look at it (driving a ’57 Bird) bought it. Photo when I was around 15.

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Not a car, but a boat... ...that made me fall in love with cars.

My dad has a 71 DiMarco flatbotom that I grew up going to the lake in. learned to ski, learned to love the waer, have tons of good core memories ted to those anual trips. It has a 427 Ford FE from a 63 Galaxie. Factory dual quads. Edelbrock wet-stacks and engine mounts. Neovane cam-driven water pump. The sound of the 427 coming out of the aluminum megaphones with the vaporizing water muffling the otherwise open header sound into what I can only describe as a slightly muted roar, has never quit ringing in the back of my head. This picture was 3 years ago with my dad giving 4 of my kiddos a ride... and another from when I was a kid.

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Cool boat!!! Jet drive or prop?
 
Cool boat!!! Jet drive or prop?
V-drive (prop)

Interestingly enough, I recently re-acquired my grandfather's '64 Hallett Barron (below) he sold back in 1993 before he passed in 1999. This was my dad's DiMarco's maiden voyage at Lake Powell in 1976 with my grandfather in his Baron. That's my dad at the far left and you can just see the bow of the DiMarco behind him.

Funny story about that trip I just learned form a family friend... My dad was running behind getting the boat ready for the trip and didn't have an engine ready for it. 3 days before the trip, he went to Fillmore Ford and bought a brand new '76 F250 and yanked the 390 out of it and dropped it in. After the trip, he put the engine back in the truck and proceeded to install the 427 had had planned. That truck is the one seen in the photo above with the camper in it. Safe to say dad is/was a motorhead too.

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Too many too ever cover...but, an early memory of cars in my family was when my parents bought their first station-wagon. They bought it with really low miles out of the Lynch-Rd Chrysler pool. It was a 1964 Dodge 330, with a factory 383 4-speed. It was white, red guts, 6-passenger, no options. My Mom used to dragrace out on Telegraph RD, with us in the back. Dad was at work. My Mom could really row the gears!

Us kids all learned how to drive in that car, because Dad demanded we all learned to drive a stick. He created a monster, with me. That poor car took such abuse. I wrecked it one time, and my Dad made me fix it. I ended up putting a white 64 Plymouth front clip on it. A cheap bolt-on.

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My Dad saying "ease out of the clutch" then jerking him back into the seat.....
 
My sisters first car was a Saab with a 4 speed on the column. She bought a 68 Camaro and the Saab sat. So I used it as a go kart. One fall day dad and I were out squirrel hunting, he said would you like to drive it home, you need to learn how to use a clutch. I was almost 13, I jumped in and we took off. About a mile down the road dad looked at me and said, how long you been driving this car
 
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