What’s your best (or first, or weirdest) car story?
March 26, 2025 | Sparkle Wednesday
This question was inspired by Jonathan at ArcStone—thanks for the great suggestion!
Growing up at The Ponderosa (our affectionate name for the house my dad built when we moved to the country) came with its fair share of quirks. Actually, more than a fair share—a lot of quirks.
One of the more memorable ones involved cars. My dad had a knack for acquiring “new” used cars through a kind of informal bartering system. What exactly he traded, I’m not entirely sure—maybe access to our land, maybe drafting services? Honestly, I have no idea. I bet one of my siblings could fill in that part of the story.
Most of these cars came with, let’s say, “character.” They usually had significant issues but would run—at least for a little while. There are some pretty epic stories involving these cars, though they’re not mine to tell. By the time I got my driver’s license, the bartering days had passed. I typically just used my Mom’s navy blue Chevette, which for the record was a manual.
But when I was little, I do remember one particular car adventure. My sister Leslie and I would occasionally go with Dad to the dump, which we weirdly loved. It was this wild, mysterious place filled with discarded treasures and oddities.
On one of those dump trips, our white station wagon decided it no longer wanted to drive forward. No problem for my dad. He calmly shifted the car into reverse, slung his arm across the back seat, craned his head around, and drove the entire way home in reverse.
Now, I’ll be honest: I was pretty young, and memory has a way of blending and bending over time. I know we went to the dump. I know there was a trip where he drove home in reverse. Whether those two things happened on the same day? Hard to say. But the impression it left? Unforgettable.
What about you? What’s your best (or first, or weirdest) car story?
Yes, the used up cars usually arrived at the Ponderosa, but usually for $100 transaction. One year, my sister Susan and I got used up cars for Christmas presents. Susan got a beat up Vega and I got a '67 red Mercury that got around 5 mpg. I drove the Merc for a maybe 6 months or so. I might have sold it. Can't remember. There may have been some mind-altering substances involved. At the time, I had a roommate, Johnny S had a Rambler about the same vintage and size as the Merc. I think Johnny bought the car from a person named Sweat Pepe....I'll let you fill in the blanks. Johnny's Rambler was always breaking down and the only tools he owned were a cresent wrench, a screwdriver and a hatchet. He would try to fix the car with the first two tools and if he wasn't successful, he would chop holes in the hood with the hatchet. The car had a number of penetrating warmarks across the hood. One time, Johnny couldn't get the driver door shut. I said, no problem, we could just "gently" smash the door shut with the Merc. We went out to the alley in the 'hood.I revved up the engine in the Merc. Blue smoke blew out the tail pipe, some gearhead had told me the rings were going out. I thought, that's cute. At the same time the belts squealed in some hi-pitched ear piercing sound. I threw the Merc into drive, headed down the alley and T-boned the Rambler and crushed the door into the car. Success! The door wouldn't open, but it was nicely smashed into the car body and the car was drivable. This is just one of many car tales. I was a big fan of the NPR show, Car Talk, and when ever people would call in with their car problems, I'd think that's nothing. Between my sisters and I, we could have called into Car Talk for a straight year with a new story every week.
I was a teenager when the original Footloose movie came out. On our way home from a dance I did the car scene where Ariel climbs from one car to the other. (The drivers went very slow-not as fast as the movie) and then we stopped in the road and danced to the theme song. Stupid, probably; freeing, hell yeah.