After graduating from high school, the next step was the community college in town and the requirement of a car for transportation. There were tons of students needing to do the same thing. It was between Dad and me to figure out the financial situation, the type (not model) of vehicle, and the plan of action for hunting for the best yet least expensive on the market. I had a part time job, some savings, and plenty of dreams. My father, on the other hand, brought along the reality of what I could afford, how it would be paid, and how repairs were going to be handled. He also made it clear that his presence was only there to assist in determining all the above. Assist was operative word. The finances came from my pocket, not his. The car will be used and within a definite price range after a few visits to a bank. Dreams of driving something that had class, style, and new car smells were dashed in smoke. The car only needed to point A to point B to point C for the next two years without immediate need for repairs. It will have to make it through two rough Midwest winters, so limited body rust and good tires will be a selling point. This was going to be my mobile study hall, dorm room, and diner, so comfort had to play a part. Gas was only a concern for expense and not conservation. This determined the engine size. Next was the actual shopping trip. Being as Dad knew many people; he had his choices of places to visit. He also told me what to expect and how to avoid pitfalls and lures of used car sales men. This was the education of lifetime. We also had a service garage on notice. We would take it there on a test drive to have them look it over for thumbs up or down. I found out that kicking the tires meant nothing, looking under the hood only determined that the engine and battery were present, and checking the trunk was for finding the spare tire and jack. Otherwise, the rest of the sale was in the hands of the expert, our service man. The final car turned out to be a 1957 Nash Rambler, white top and green bottom, vinyl bench seats, push button start, radio, flat head six cylinder engine, and very little rust. The plus point was the reclining front seats (typical college kid). Papers signed, license plates applied for, windows and car washed, gassed up, insurance agent called with the details, and drove home in my first car. At that point in my life, it was the best car on the road. Other kids had much nicer cars, but my Rambler was the best for my own reasons. God, I loved college, but those are other stories to be told later.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:50:25 +0000
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