An introduction to my early motoring life, and the cars that almost brought it to an end
|There’s a section in the back of my old Cub Scout album listed as “My Motoring Scrapbook”. The title faces an opposite page where a series of car keys are represented; the first two drawn from an outline, the other four actually pasted to the yellowing construction paper. Next to each key is a description of the respective car’s price, origin and demise.|
Turning another couple pages one comes upon a collection of traffic citations, car registrations, a car title, a tattered drivers license from 1972, and assorted correspondence from city and state powers-that-be, expressing concern about my driving record.
Looking at this stuff again caused me to reflect back on that period from 1971-74, my golden age of car ownership. During that time I was responsible for more than my fair share of vehicular destruction, cars meeting their demise in a variety of ways, some uglier than others.
Other people may have had faster and nicer looking automobiles, but I was the first among my group to come up with new and creative ways to render vehicles unfit for anything better than scrap metal and salvage.
The following is a tribute, of sorts, to the cars of my life- those vehicles that are sure to be waiting for me at Judgment Day, tires filled with air, paint jobs glistening, as they condemn me to the theological place of eternal punishment for all the suffering they endured as a direct result of my neglect and ignorance.