A vehicle I loved

Saturday, while driving to the cleaners to drop off a few shirts, I was stopped by a traffic light at Josey Lane and Frankford. Also stopped, but heading toward me on the opposite side of the street, was a 1963 white Studebaker Lark. When available, my dad would let me drive his car, a red ‘61 Studebaker Lark VIII with red and white leather interior and the Regal trim. I loved that car. Sounds snarky to love a car, but to a kid who didn’t have one it was wonderful.

First a little background. Dad was, and is, the most conservative guy I know. His cars were always white, always four door and always prim and proper. I don’t know what got into him in 1961 when he traded in his Buick, but I was astounded when he drove that somewhat compact, fire engine red car into the driveway. It had bucket seats (that folded flat, for sleeping?) and a console with a metal interior large enough to ice four cans of beer that, conveniently, even had a drain. Once, in a burst of extra money from my Morning News paper route, I splurged and purchased a reverb for the car radio that broadcast a semblance of stereo sound.

Needless to say I borrowed the red beast whenever available. Dad was kind enough to make it available very often.

After graduating from high school, I joined the Marine Corps and was fortunate to get a Christmas leave which involved an interminable bus trip from Camp Pendleton in California to Dallas. 

On New Years Eve I took Margie Asbury to a party, and after midnight we left to attend another gathering. At the hilltop intersection of Forest and Hillcrest, I looked both ways and slowed for the blinking yellow light. It looked safe so I started across. Unfortunately, a speeding car was hidden by the crest of the hill and hit the red Lark in the right rear quarter panel sending us into a violent spin. The impact caused the bucket seat to fold flat and Margie did a flip through the back windshield, and I was tossed out the driver’s door. Pretty good argument for seat belts, huh? But heh, this was before seat belt laws. 

Margie was okay, aside from bumps and bruises, and so was I. We were unhurt, but not so my first favorite car. It was totaled. On Margie’s side a 24 inch long, decorative metal strip (from the Regal trim) was bent inward and pierced her seat like a spear from Braveheart. In this instance, Margie probably would have died if she’d been wearing a seat belt. We were lucky.

Saturday, as I took the shirts to the cleaners and glimpsed across the street, I remembered a great little red car.

TRIVIA

(Try it without Google)

The answer will be in tomorrow’s blog.

Yesterday's Trivia: If a female dolphin is called a cow, what is a male dolphin called? A bull

Today’s Trivia: In Chinese, what is the word for mother?