Cars

     My first car was a 1947 blue Studebaker Champion, when I was 14, but it wasn't

really that thrilling. Dad had given the car to me so that I could take it apart and learn
how things worked. I was more interested in driving than working so I drove it around
the block until the gas was gone and I had to get the lawn mower gas to get it home.
After that I sold it to the wreckers for $10.

     The first real car to fall my way was a 1951 Pontiac straight eight sedan. My

sister and her family moved to California and my brother-in-law left the car to me.
Admittedly there was a low bonging in the bearings of that long crankshaft but nothing
that a couple of cans of STP couldn't disguise. STP was like pouring cold honey into
the motor and it had great gap filling qualities. Dad was trying to make a go of a
Royalite service station in Mission and I drove out after school to help out.
This Pontiac was a real looker. Two tone, wine with silver fenders. Indian head
hood ornament, and that straight eight hood was long. Inside still had the fuzzy seats
and head liner.
     Since the engine needed a rebuild, I hung a "For Sale" sign in the
window and it wasn't long before a couple of guys stopped to have a look. They wanted
that General Motors straight eight but did not have any money. What they did have,
though, was a 1956 black and white Dodge four door hard top so we did a swap.
The Dodge had a flat head V-8 which was a relatively low revving motor that
didn't have the get up and go that the Pontiac did. It also had that automatic
transmission of the time with push button shifting. The four door hardtops had these
weird, two part windows in the rear doors that slid down towards the centre of the door
as two semi-circles. I was still hoping to make some cash so the sign went up on this
car too. It didn't take very long before a farm hand drove up in a 1955 green Plymouth
sedan.

     The farm boy was instantly in love with that four door hard top. Sadly he didn't

have money either so once again we swapped. This green Plymouth had a flat head six
that was slow revving as well but what it lacked in instant power it made up for in
longevity. I drove that car for many miles. The floor boards started to rot away but that
six cylinder just continued to tick. I can't remember how many miles were on the clock
but when I advertised it for $150, there was a lineup of people wanting to look. One guy
paid the lady in front of him $10 to change places with him and he bought the car.
    
     Buying or selling a car for $150 sounds funny today but I made $2.00 per hour at
my unionized summer job on the railroad. So 150 bucks was about two weeks' takehome
pay for a unionized worker. Plenty of people were making half of that. Gas was 15
or 20 cents a gallon (an imperial gallon = 4.5 litres) and beer was just 10 cents a glass.
For 2 bucks you could fill up a beer parlour table with beer.

     I finished high school with a 1956 Consul. Dad had picked that up for me for
helping at the service station. It was cream coloured with a red interior. Although it was
no match for Al's chopped and lowered '38 Merc, with flames, or Paul's '61 Chevy with a
409, it got me and friends around, a lot. I started university at SFU with the Consul but
the British transmission was no match for going to the top of the mountain with me, my
friends Dennis and Jim, my sister Satu and her friend Fran. Quite a load. Instead of
larger, my car got smaller.

     For a while, I drove an Austin Mini panel delivery. This car was your standard

mini, which was the first type of car into North America with a transverse engine and
front wheel drive. Now, of course, most cars are like that but in 1965, that was pretty
novel. This panel delivery had no side windows or seats in the back. Just a flat deck
with double doors at the very back. The major drawback with the mini was that it only
had 12 inch wheels so in the coastal snow it was easy to get high centred. I had gone
to SFU on a football scholarship so would pick up fellow players from the side of the
road. There were no seat belts for the boys in the back, in fact, no seats. Whenever
that mini got high centred, some beefy boys would bail out of the back, pick the mini up
and move it over to where we could continue and dive back in through the rear doors.