I learned a lot of lessons from this car when I was 17 (and so was the car). How to pour gas directly into the carb when it wouldn't start - and how to thump the starter with a hammer when it wasn't turning over properly. How to give it gas without flooding it. How to do donuts in an icy parking lot. That every car has its little quirks, and once you figure them out, then you can have a beautiful relationship. It was a tank - chrome bumpers, everything made of steel; heavy and hard on gas. I had a flat tire at least once a week, and for a while there I was setting land-speed records - I could change a tire in five minutes. Especially once my dad got me a monster-sized crossbar to unscrew the lug nuts. That was a sweet crossbar... I wonder what ever happened to it? Likely if I had something like that in my vehicle today it would be considered a dangerous weapon. It never really occurred to me to try to figure out WHY I was getting flat tires so frequently; looking back I can't help but suspect sabotage. HA!
I had some pretty good adventures with this car. Camping trips, bar-hopping, a little bit of off-roading. I even got my first speeding ticket in this car! Eventually it went down the line to my brother and I bought a new car. I did some math and figured out that the new car payments would be about the same as just putting gas into this beast. The new car didn't have as much character as this baby though. For starters, it wasn't baby poop green...
I love these old beat-up, solid-as-a-rock, big-steering-wheeled, rear-wheel drive tanks. OR maybe I just miss being 17? ...Nah. It's definitely the cars.