I never had the pleasure of cruising in your Ford, but I vividly recall our trip from Tallahassee to Utah in your VW Squareback. Climbing into the car for the start of the adventure, my butt (and my spirits) sagged as I looked down and realized there were rusted out holes in the floor board and that only a web of wires kept the seat from dropping to the pavement. (I think there was also a rope involved in suspending the clutch pedal.) You seemed amused by my trepidation, and fortunately, your positivity was infectious enough for me to tentatively throw caution to the wind. The resulting adventures remain among the most cherished memories in my life.
It was a lot more sophisticated than wires. I kept the driver's seat from bouncing and dragging on the pavement by wrapping a strip of sheet metal around the bottom door jamb and bolting it to the floor. I don't know why you got all excited about it. Or about the rope holding the brake (or was it the clutch) pedal up. I do remember your panicked, hysterical laughter when you noticed my make-shift repairs. We weren't even a mile out of town. You should never have looked down.
Sorry, Walter. My ol' grey matter ain't what it used to be. That Squareback was a workhorse and even our one sunset breakdown on an isolated Native American reservation lead to a wonderful rescue by the Johnson family. THAT experience was indeed unforgettable!
Those were great days. I'm only in my late seventies but I remember fondly my pale green '54 Ford Mercury and its replacement, a blue Plymouth Fury with that crazy push button transmission. Many side of the road engine work stops. Solenoids, distributor caps, duct tape, spool wire, hammers,tool bags in the trunk. One had to learn to fix your beater since you were too poor to afford a tow or a mechanic. Such adventures we all had in those days- the roads were emptier, the horizons vaster, even the mountains seemed higher!
Indeed! I didn't know you knew Yiddish! As my stepfather would have said, a "yiddische kopf," (forgive the misspellings) I don't know if it's an old man's glorification of the past (something every generation does I know) but the world of my youth really seemed a better place than it is now if only because there were fewer of us around to do harm, though we did plenty.
"Knowing Yiddish" is a pretty big exaggeration. But you can't go through life without a few Yiddish expressions, can you? And Yiddish is largely Old Middle German, or something along those lines, and I speak German. So, nicht so schwierig. But to confirm your claim, yeah, the world is going to hell in a handbasket (smile), and I wish I could say that in Yiddish.
I never had the pleasure of cruising in your Ford, but I vividly recall our trip from Tallahassee to Utah in your VW Squareback. Climbing into the car for the start of the adventure, my butt (and my spirits) sagged as I looked down and realized there were rusted out holes in the floor board and that only a web of wires kept the seat from dropping to the pavement. (I think there was also a rope involved in suspending the clutch pedal.) You seemed amused by my trepidation, and fortunately, your positivity was infectious enough for me to tentatively throw caution to the wind. The resulting adventures remain among the most cherished memories in my life.
It was a lot more sophisticated than wires. I kept the driver's seat from bouncing and dragging on the pavement by wrapping a strip of sheet metal around the bottom door jamb and bolting it to the floor. I don't know why you got all excited about it. Or about the rope holding the brake (or was it the clutch) pedal up. I do remember your panicked, hysterical laughter when you noticed my make-shift repairs. We weren't even a mile out of town. You should never have looked down.
Sorry, Walter. My ol' grey matter ain't what it used to be. That Squareback was a workhorse and even our one sunset breakdown on an isolated Native American reservation lead to a wonderful rescue by the Johnson family. THAT experience was indeed unforgettable!
greatly enjoyed and I am sure Cliff would have emphasized with you about cars many years ago!
I'm sure he would have! He liked cars, and often enthused about whatever he drove.
Those were great days. I'm only in my late seventies but I remember fondly my pale green '54 Ford Mercury and its replacement, a blue Plymouth Fury with that crazy push button transmission. Many side of the road engine work stops. Solenoids, distributor caps, duct tape, spool wire, hammers,tool bags in the trunk. One had to learn to fix your beater since you were too poor to afford a tow or a mechanic. Such adventures we all had in those days- the roads were emptier, the horizons vaster, even the mountains seemed higher!
Michael, the mountains were indeed and actually higher! And the roads were certainly emptier (and there weren't as many). Oy weh is mir!
Indeed! I didn't know you knew Yiddish! As my stepfather would have said, a "yiddische kopf," (forgive the misspellings) I don't know if it's an old man's glorification of the past (something every generation does I know) but the world of my youth really seemed a better place than it is now if only because there were fewer of us around to do harm, though we did plenty.
"Knowing Yiddish" is a pretty big exaggeration. But you can't go through life without a few Yiddish expressions, can you? And Yiddish is largely Old Middle German, or something along those lines, and I speak German. So, nicht so schwierig. But to confirm your claim, yeah, the world is going to hell in a handbasket (smile), and I wish I could say that in Yiddish.
What a saga of adventures, misadventures and car repairs! You, and Victoria, are amazing.
Why, thank you Carol! We have certainly had interesting lives.