2002-09-23 - 12:30 p.m.
�Oftentimes I miss that old Chevy convertible you had. She was gorgeous and had tons of style points, like the caddy in To Wong Foo...� �Genevieve
This was part of a conversation that she and I had this weekend, which not surprisingly has left me thinking about the car that I have owned. While I was in college the running joke was that I have had more cars than girlfriends. Well I guess that is true, cause in the 7 years that I spent at Va. Tech I had owned 8 different vehicles. Little did these folks know that in the 16 years that I have been driving, I have owned 12 different cars. I have also driven on loan or shared with the wife/parents 5 more cars for a grand total of 17 cars�geez, I guess these folks are right, cause I have only seriously ever dated 7 people.
I made the bold claim in my last entry that every vehicle that I have owned has been something special in one way or another. That every vehicle I have ever owned has had a character of its own�and that every vehicle that I have ever owned has been a love hate relationship. So, for those of you who are curious, for those of you who like staring at train wrecks�and for those of you who are so bored at work you will read anything, �specially if it has shiny pictures�here are my 12 cars�
1967 Volvo 122s Station wagon:
This was the car that I learned to drive. It was lima bean green. My �67 really wasn�t mine, but since my folks had basically given it to me I have always considered it to be. The year before my 16th birthday my Step Dad acquired a 122s body that was in AMAZING condition. Generally these old Volvos had rust problems, but this body was perfect�but green�and not that pretty British racing green either. It was more of a Lima Bean green. Unfortunately the engine was not in as good of shape as the body, and it took my Step Dad quite a few months to get this baby running and road worthy. I loved this car. It was not a mustang, or a beemer�but it had a style all of its own. It was a 4 speed manual with over drive. An over drive that was more like some sort of James Bond gadget than a 5th gear. See to shift in to over drive you flipped a toggle switch on the dash�and WOOSH! You were flying along�sortta. What really happened was when you toggled the switch an orbital gear engaged with the 4th gear in the tranny, which basically gave you a 5th gear. It was SO cool. The other thing that I loved about this car was that it had Dual Carbs. Not that this gave my car any incredible power boosts�just bragging rights. In fact I won $25 in high school betting a guy that my car had dual carbs.
When I left for school my parents decided that I would not be taking the car with me. So sadly I had to leave �my� Volvo behind. And that year she was sold to help finance a new car purchase for the family.
1971 Honda CB450:
During the summer of 1990, right before I was to head up to college, my step dad and I decided that this year at school I would not be without wheels. So outta the shed in the backyard we pulled the �infamous� Honda. I say infamous because years before this bike was give to Dan (my Step Dad) as payment for some work that he had done for a fellah, only the bike was not running. In fact it was in about 4 boxes. After years of fighting with this bike, after years of tuning nightmares, and fussing with it he finally got it running�and decided it was time to pass her on to me. So I became the proud owner of a Sparkly Orange classic bike. Now this thing was indeed special. Aside from the color she had what every bike rider really wants. Straight pipes. Pipes SO LOUD that when I fired this baby up and wound her up to the 10k rpm redline you could hear her screaming on the other side of campus. She was ugly, she was loud, and she was mine, and together we rode all over the new river valley.
A year and a half later she died an ugly death. She had valve and ring cancer. No matter how much oil I put in her, she would bleed it, burn it, and leak it. So sadly I retired her. Her body was donated to the local Vo-Tech School where they claimed she would be re-built. I have never seen her again.
1984 Vf700f Honda Interceptor:
After the passing of the 450 I had it in my mind that I still needed a Motorcycle. I guess I was still young and foolish enough to think that having a bike for your sole means of transportation was a fine Idea. The VF700F was the first �spot bike to have hit the market. It had the partial faring, the 45 degree V-4 engine (which had more horsies packed into it than my Volvo), and a sweet color scheme. Mine was perfect�almost. To be honest, the fact that second gear was missing never really caused me all that much trouble. This bike and I went everywhere. Together we learned many things. How to ride in the snow, why it sucks to ride in the rain, what it feels like to drive 140mph, how to drag you knee in corners, how to �get air�, and that chicks dig bikes. Yeah she was my 365 daily driver, and unless there was ice on the ground, or more than an inch of snow, we went everywhere together. We even went riding with other enthusiasts. Through the backcountry, down windy roads at speeds that make my ass clench now. I was indestructible. Then I saw a guy loose it in a turn. He lost ALL of the skin on his back and left hip. He broke 4 ribs, his hand, and worst of all, his jaw. He rode with a beenie helmet, shorts, and a t-shirt. Yeah there are those who say he deserved it for being stupid�for not riding with the proper safety gear�but ya know�he really didn�t. He was a nice guy. He taught me a lot about riding. He taught me that I was not immortal, he taught me that no matter how good of a rider you are, anyone can hit a small patch of gravel and loose it. And most of all he showed me what can happen if I don�t always wear my leathers and full face helmet. He left school right after that accident, and I have not seen him since�but if did, I would have to thank him, cause ever since that day, I always ride with boots, leathers, and a full helm. And that is why I survived my crash. I lost my Interceptor just 6 weeks later to the back end of a car. I was late for class. I was driving way too fast. It had started raining. When I crested the little hill in a blind corner I came up on a little yellow car with the license plate Chiquita or some variation of that. And all of a sudden she stopped. She had missed her turn. I had no escape route. Too much on coming traffic to the left, and pedestrians to the right. I got on the brakes as hard as I could. I locked up the bike, front and rear. I rode the slide like a pro�but I knew I was not going to make it. I had only 2 choices�highside and possibly die�or ditch the bike and risk ending up like my buddy did 6 weeks earlier. I ditched the bike. I hit the pavement hard, slapped my face into the asphalt and slid on my back and right side. My bike was wrecked. As for me�my leathers saved my skin, and my helmet saved my face. 2 months later I had my bike back on the road, but I had lost my nerve. Every time I saw brake lights my heart would race. It was time to move on.
I sold her that spring to a friend who completely restored her. You would have never known that I had laid her down.
1977 AMC Jeep CJ-7
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With the money that I made selling the bike I found myself traveling to Roanoke to look at a Jeep. Little did I know what I was in for. Grendel was a baby shit brown Levi�s special edition Jeep Renegade package. But you would have never known that from looking at him. The right side fender was crushed, the body was a bit rusted, and (I didn't realize this when I bought it) with the exception of the spedo, none of the gauges and dash lights worked. Grendel was hard core. He has a 304 V-8 engine, running through a bullet proof 3 speed manual tranny. In 4WD there was no trail I could not run, no hill I couldn�t climb, and no snow storm that I drive in. In fact Grendel was one of the saviors of the Ice castle that was snowed in (the first time). Grendel and I fetched people, supplies, and acted as a general shuttle service for that day, and the days that followed. I loved my Jeep�and would be forever hooked on them. It took me 4 days to figure out how the top wnet back on this jeep after I took it off in a rush the first time. I was so excited to go driving around with no top and doors that I didn�t bother to remember what I was doing when I pulled the top. Grendel and I had an intense love affair. I would run him hard�and he would break. I would fix him, run him hard�and he would break. This went on and on until I retired that Jeep. Keep in mind though, Grendel NEVER once left me stranded. I was always able to limp him home for a little TLC. Unfortunalty I soon ran out of money, and what with Grendel loving attention I soon found that I could not afford to keep him running in top shape�so I had to consider moving on.
Urged to do so by my friends and family, I traded Grendel in that spring on a �practical� car.
1984 � Ford Escort Wagon:
If ever I owned a car that I hated�it was this Escort. Yeah it ran. Yeah it got me from a to b. Yeah I could carry a fair amount of shit in it. But it was boring. It was ugly. It had no character. It was the dark age for me and my cars. I drove this pos into the ground. I had no love for it, so I took minimal care of it. So the day it left me stranded on 81 south of Harrisonburg I was ready to leave it there. But I didn�t. I am too practical for that. I had it towed to Harrisonburg, where I poked at it with a stick. Thrown rod. Nice�fuck you ya piece of shit. There is no good reason that it should have happened. Yeah I didn�t baby this car, but I did do the necessary maintanence. I think it died cause it was unloved�yeah I know I am a fuckin weirdo.
I left that car to rot in a field�where it is still sitting�but the pos stranded me first.
1975 Caprice Classic Convertible:
The Caprice was my Grandfathers car. It was �sold� to me when he died to replace the escort. I loved this car. 21 feet long, 7 feet wide. It was maroon with a white top and interior. It got 14 miles the gallon on a good day, and could carry 8 people comfortably. Did I mention that it was a convertible? I have more good memories about this car than any other cause I can remember when my Grandpa bought this car�I was 5. When I was 16 he told me the only way I would ever get to drive his car was when he was dead�
I got that car at the lowest point in my life at school. Classes sucked, school sucked, work sucked�and to boot, I could not afford to do the work to the car that it needed. But I did what I could. It was hard watching that car fall apart around me though. This would be the Chevy that Genevieve would be talking about. My Caprice had a 350ci engine, and an automatic tranny. It was a real pig off the line, and handled like the three ton road locomotive that it was. But that was not the point of this car. She was a cruiser. Gliding down the interstate at 75 with the top down was and experience. Yeah jeeps were open air too�but this was different�in a hard to explain sortta way. Unless you were lucky enough to experience it I doubt you will ever understand.
I loved that car so much�I sold her. I sold her to a guy that had her restored, and garage kept. He dusted her with a baby diaper, and cruised only on beautiful days�I sold that car, cause I could not bear to watch her die�because I could not afford to fix her up right.
Coming tomorrow
The next 6�
Today I learned that I HATE PEOPLE THAT WON�T FUCKIN THINK FOR THEM SELVES!!!! See earlier post�my feelings haven�t changed on this subject yet�and I refuse to rant about it again so soon.
SO how bout you? What have you learned?
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