Tuesday, September 08, 2009

"Auto" Biography #1 - 1939 Plymouth - by Brad

Between Lindsey and I, we have had many vehicles that we have considered our own. There are memories and feelings that go with each one of our vehicles and we plan to document these in several posts over the next couple weeks. Starting in chronological order...


1939 Plymouth Pickup.

When I was about eight years old, my dad purchased this pickup for $500 with plans that we would fix it up together and it would be my truck. I was excited about this idea until I realized how much work it was going to involve. Although there were many hours spent sand-blasting and sanding the truck, my dad ended up exchanging another vehicle for labor to expedite the body work.

In this picture, the Plymouth still had a few finishing touches left...


This picture was taken shortly before Lindsey and I dated (the first time). Looking back at my style in that picture, I should feel lucky that she even dated me for one month! Anyway... I remember dropping her off at her house one afternoon in the Plymouth and not being able to start it up again. Her neighbor had to come over and help me get it started again.

I also remember attempting to drive it in Wenatchee's Classy Chassis Parade. It was great fun until it broke down right before I was supposed to turn down Grant Road (the main street of the parade). It just so happens that Lindsey was with me to share in this embarassing moment as well.

Unlike the other vehicles I owned as a teenager, I was only stopped once by a police officer in this truck. As we were passing each other (in different directions) my headlights went black. He turned around and pulled me over in a school parking lot. It was the main cruising night of Apple Blossom, so he was especially harsh with me - granted, that is where I was eventually headed. He threatened to ticket me and tow my truck if he saw me driving again that evening. Then he offered me a ride to my friend's house where I was headed. Out of spite I declined his offer and walked the couple miles to where I was headed.

Strange that many of my memories revolve around the truck breaking down. Well, maybe that isn't so strange.

In a round-about way I ended up giving the truck back to my dad. We were probably both a little disappointed that the arrangement didn't work out completely as planned. My dad still has this truck parked in his garage.

Years considered mine: 1988 - 1998 (approx.)

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