The Cars

I had a skill when I was very young. I could identify year and make of cars by their badging, shape and trim. It was considered cute that I could do this almost perfectly at the age of three, and it's a skill I've sort of kept over the years. Well, newer cars are difficult for me. They tend to maintain their appearance over several years, and there are a lot of brands now that didn't exist in the '40s and '50s.

I'm trying to keep a list of the cars we had through the years. I've done a post on this topic before, but I'll try to do a list without referring to it.

1. 1942 Packard Clipper. It was Hunter Green, but the paint was very faded. There was a big dent in one rear fender -- did my mother back into something, or did the car get hit by another? I don't know. The interior was ratty. Upholstery worn and torn, stuffing coming out of various places. It had an odd smell, might have been burning oil. My mother got the car in the divorce settlement from my father, and I think she hated it. Finally, the clutch or transmission gave out and she traded it for another car.

2. 1950 Plymouth. This was gray, four door, a Deluxe model. It was a pretty nice car all things considered, but it was a base model, so it had no radio or heater. My mother drove it until 1957 when she was in a wreck coming back from her late call at the hospital where she worked. The car was pretty much totaled. She was injured, broken ribs and wrist, and a nasty knot on her forehead. So she bought a Ford.

3. 1957 Ford Custom 300. This was also a base model, but it seemed to me to be very advanced compared to the Plymouth. Being shiny and new of course was the main thing. But it had fins and chrome and a low and lean look to it, whereas the Plymouth was high and rather staid.

4. 1959 Hillman Minx. An oddball car to be sure. I don't remember why my mother traded the Ford for a foreign car so soon, just over two years, after she bought the Ford. My sister was driving a French Simca at the time, so that may have had something to do with it. Anyway, I thought the Hillman was pretty deluxe, though it was smaller than any car we'd had up to then. It had a radio and heater and green leather upholstery. It was a little difficult to get used to because the shift pattern was different, but otherwise it was quite fine in a British sort of way. It was the first car I drove on my own, badly.

5. 1961 Ford Galaxie.  Well. This one was kind of spectacular. It was black with a red interior. It was a "hardtop convertible" which meant there were no pillars between the front and rear doors. It seemed huge compared to the Hillman, and I think that's why my mother liked it.

Video below of a similar car.

5. 1965 Mustang. She couldn't resist. The minute the Mustang was introduced, she wanted one -- and she got one.This one was green with a black interior. It was pretty basic, but it was sharp looking and she loved it. When the clutch or transmission went out, though, she traded it in.

6. 7. 8. A series of used Thunderbirds. There was a 1959, a 1961, and I think a 1963. My mother bought these cars for herself and didn't keep any of them very long.

9. 1969 Dodge Coronet. This was not a success. Her step-father had worked at a Dodge dealership when she was young, and he had given her her first car, a 1934 Dodge Coupe. She hoped that a new Dodge would be as much of a thrill. It was a disaster. It was too plain after the luxury of the Thunderbirds, and for some reason, it didn't "sound right" and it was hard to drive. Within a month or so she traded it for a...

10. 1969 Pontiac LeMans. She loved this car. She kept it for at least another 10 years, maybe longer. I don't know that she ever bought another car -- but we were estranged toward the end of her life and I have only sketchy knowledge of her after about 1977. She died in 1987.

Because her step-father was a machinist who became the service manager at a car dealership before he went on mercurial adventures as the owner of his own filling station and auto court, eventually losing all his money in a bogus mining venture in Nevada, my mother always had an interest and fascination with cars. My infant skill in identifying makes, models, and years cars from the '40s and '50s was widely admired, but eventually, I didn't really share her auto interest.

I've had many cars on my own over the years, starting with a 1950 Packard convertible (the one pictured below may actually be it):

Imagine a high school kid driving something like that around in 1965. My god. Just looking at the picture gives me a strange sensation, part thrill, part horror.

That was followed by a 1951 Buick Roadmaster, which was followed by a 1958 Cadillac, then a 1967 Ford Fairlane, then a 1970 Chevelle Malibu, then a 1980 Ford Escort, then a 1988 Toyota Corolla, then a 1992 Subaru, then a 1998 Pontiac, then a 1997 Chevrolet Astro van (which I still have) and then a couple of 2008 Subarus purchased in New Mexico, one purchased in 2013 which was wrecked, the other purchased in 2016 which we still have. 

Rain, Glorious Rain; or Too Much of a Good Thing

We went up to Cuba yesterday for lunch -- a 230 mile round trip to be sure, but it is one of the most scenic drives in New Mexico, among so many scenic drives, and the weather was beautiful for such an adventure.

We saw dark clouds gathering on the Jemez Mountains, and we could locate where the rain was falling in the draws and ravines and side canyons. There was none near the road or our destinations, but parts of the high ramparts of the mountains looked to be getting well soaked. Good. Cut down on the fires, break some of the drought.

When we got back to Albuquerque in the afternoon, the sky in the north was still very dark, but the storm, if that's what it was, seemed to be stationary. We stopped at the Sandia Casino to look around and play a bit -- we hadn't been there since its expansion more than ten years ago (I think) -- and when we chatted with some of the staff, they said there had been torrential rains in the late afternoon, early evening for days, and they were worried it would happen again. Little did they -- or we -- know.

Out in the Estancia Valley, we'd been getting a little bit of light rain now and again, but nothing memorable since the first day of monsoon rain on June 30. There was rain every day for about 2 weeks, then scattered infrequent showers except along the mountain sides where the rains were sometimes measured in inches per hour -- or seemed to be. We didn't realize the rains had been so severe or so frequent in Albuquerque lately.

When we left the casino around 5:30pm or so, the sky was pretty dark in the north, and there appeared to be some showers falling on the Sandias, but not a lot and not extensively. As we drove along Tramway there was no rain at all, and it was dry going through the Tijeras Canyon. The clouds in the east were lit up gloriously by the early evening sun, just beautiful piles and piles of brilliant white, like the fanciest vanilla ice cream scoops in the sky.

After we got back to our place, we did our usual futzing about, and I said I'd go into town (locally) to pick up mail (we don't have home delivery) and rustle up some grub for dinner at the rib joint. When I got there, the place was hopping. It was after all Friday Night Cruise Night, and we were on Route 66 in summer time, so what do you expect?  Nice cars! Big line for ribs and chicken and stuff, so I had a fairly long wait. Checked out the vehicles, chatted with neighbors and other folks, and all of us watched the darkening skies in the north. Deep, deep dark grays and purples lit here and there with pink and orange fringes from the setting sun, and now and then flashes of silver from the lightning inside the clouds.

"Oh shit. This is going to be a bad one," someone said out on the patio. "Nah, ya think? Really?"

"Yah, look a that," pointing to the massive black cloud looming ever closer. "It's gonna be hell."

"Nah, we'll be lucky if it drops anything."

"Just you wait. I say, take cover, and better get these cars under wraps, too."

OT: Carboy

When I was very little, I was obsessed with cars and I became notorious for being able to identify the makes and models of practically every car on the road on sight -- and letting everybody know, too. It was considered something of a trick. Much later on, I wondered if my parents were worried about my youthful talent since my older brother had the ability to remember and recall baseball statistics in detail for decades in the past but could learn practically nothing else; his condition is called autism now, but in those days he was described as an "idiot savant". Perhaps I would turn out the same way? Hard to say...

We've been looking for an old car to supplement The Red Van to cruise Old Route 66  -- which we live quite near. There are plenty of geezers in this area who get themselves an old car to go cruising in on balmy weekends or to show off at the plaza in town. As I pore through the listings online, a whole lot of vehicles catch my eye and many are cars I remember intimately from when I was a child.

Perhaps my mother's closest friend when I was little was the widow of the local Buick dealer, and her car was one of my favorites. Of course it was a Buick, a 1941 black Roadmaster, quite an impressive automobile, and surprisingly not showing any age to speak of by the early 1950's when I was driven around in it from time to time.

It was much like this one:

1941 Buick Roadmaster (via Wikimedia Commons)

Our own car at the time was a 1942 Packard Clipper that had seen better days. It was green... well, it had been at one time, but the paint had faded to a wretched gray with greenish highlights. There was a significant dent in the right rear fender -- whether someone ran into the car or something else happened, I don't remember. The stuffing was coming out  of the driver's side armrest and the upholstery was torn in places. I don't think the radio worked. The manual transmission was balky -- it sometimes wouldn't go in reverse, and going forward it would often get stuck in low. My mother hated to drive it.

This was the model, however:

1942 Packard Clipper

 And here's a picture of Little Me standing in the yard with the Packard in the background.



Finally, in 1951, we got a new car, actually a slightly used one, a 1950 Plymouth De Luxe like this one:

1950 Plymouth

I was very fond of that car and to this day every time I see one, I get a little thrill. There is one available fairly nearby, and the price is decent, so it's on my list of potentials...

Next, we got a 1957 Ford Fairlane, purchased new in Los Angeles (the name of the dealer escapes me now, but I recalled it not so very long ago, could even visualize the salesman...)  It was something like this (it was tan, but it was a fordor):

1957 Ford Fairlane models from brochure

 It was followed by a 1959 Hillman Minx, very much like this:



It was the first car I actually drove myself, not very well to be sure. It was foreign and small, and difficult to service, so we got rid of it pretty quickly.

The Hillman was followed by a 1961 Ford Galaxie. It was huge. Domestic. Black with a red interior. And it was considered very sharp in those days:

1961 Ford Galaxie from brochure

Next, can you guess? A Mustang. Yes, it was a 1965, green, and extraordinarily fun for me to drive. By then I had a driver's license. And I could drive the Mustang quite well, thank you very much. Of course, it was smaller than the Hillman, but who cared!

1965 Green Mustang

After that, I got my own car, a 1950 Packard Victoria Convertible... A very rare model, and today worth a good deal of money. I think I paid $250 for it -- I had only $100 and borrowed the rest from my mother or sister. This car was on its last legs when I got it, barely running at the time. I did some minor repairs and started replacing the top, but I don't think I drove it for more than a few months before it died the death -- and I couldn't afford to put more money into it. So it sat in the garage for a couple of years, and then I gave it to a friend who said he wanted to restore it and thought he could do so for a decent price. I don't know what he paid for the restoration, but this is pretty much what the car looked like when it was done:



Except he painted it gold, which I never liked. The car was a really nice turquoise with a red leather interior when I bought it. The top was cream color. As I recall, the power equipment (seat, top, windows, windshield wipers) was all pretty wheezy, but the radio worked!

Though I didn't approve of the color he had it painted, he loved the car and eventually sold it for a pretty penny.

The next car I bought was a 1951 Buick Roadmaster, a car I enjoyed enormously, drove everywhere, and I would love to find another one like it. I think I paid $150 for it and I sold it for the same price several years later.

1951 Buick Roadmaster

I followed that with a 1958 Cadillac, which I didn't like quite as much as the Buick, but was happy enough with. Again, I bought it for very little and sold it several years later for about what I paid for it.

1958 Cadillac 60 Special

After that one, there seemed to be a swirl of new and used cars, mostly Chevrolets and Fords, but then after the Escort lost a wheel on the freeway (it just snapped right off), the switch was on to Toyota and then to Subaru.

The last car we had (donated it to charity before The Big Move) was a Pontiac; we brought The Red Van out to New Mexico where it has been many times before, and it has been reliable transportation through the fall and winter, but now that spring is coming on, the hunt for a cruising car is underway.

Frivolous, I know!