The first car which was mine, all mine. Our
German neighbor upstairs was moving to
California, too far of a drive he thought for his
aging car. Frank had just graduated
college and had job prospects down there in the
sunny state, which at the time was suffering from
torrential rains. He intended to just leave the car to whoever wanted it. I hesitantly asked if he would give it to me, having
admired many times the
poise of the aging steel. Agreed with a smile,
signing over the title of that
1966 Dodge Dart to my name. I proceeded to wash off all the accumulated mossy crust revealing a deep white, cleaning the inside until it was in reasonable shape. Three gears a huge engine that was remarkably simple, as if constructed by a child. Front and rear
bench seats, we would pack so many kids in and cruise around with the ancient
AM signals rolling onto our ears.
After owning it for a year, I sold the car to Anthony for somewhere around 300 dollars. I was to start school and did not want the burden of
insurance. The car served him favorably until the
transmission got stuck in first gear, which is said to be common for the three on the tree configuration. Instead of doing what was probably a simple
repair to the
linkage, he drove the car around in
first gear until the tranmission dropped down onto the road in smoking bits and pieces.