And don't call me Ishmael, either
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A Tail of Two Whales And don't call me Ishmael, either |
| It all really started with a 1977 Houston Oiler Blue Pinto Station wagon. I should have known there was going to be trouble with that car. The very first time my parents let me go out in it by myself, I got in a head-on collision. With a '73 Impala of all things. Later on in life, I drove myself, my mom, and my sister from Houston to North Carolina when we moved. Then I "inherited" the car while living in Raleigh and between semesters of school. I had to take a two year break because of financial aid changes. During those two years I learned virtually everything I know about working on cars from that Pinto. And wouldn't you know, the week before my semester finals of my first semester back, that poor little Pinto blew up. I was on my way to work. It was 1985, I think. I laughed good and hard for about 5 minutes by the highway. Then I walked home and called Dad. He spotted me a "Rent-a-Wreck" for the two weeks to get me through finals and then came and got me for the Holidays. On the way home, he was quizzing me about hot rods, what did I think about Novas and why. I so down in the dumps no connections were made. When we pulled up at the house I saw a car I didn't recognize: The 1974 Nova below: |
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| I could go on and on about the adventures I and my friends have had in this car. First of
all, I had gone from a car with no power and rack-and-pinion steering, to a raging beast of a V-8
with "Chevy Power Steering". You know the feeling when it don't feel like there's anything attached
to the steering wheel? And yet, with a flick of a wrist, you can make snap turns! I could parallel
park that car in a space with 5 inches to spare. Ask my attorney, he's seen me do it. And oh the power.
To feel the g-forces push you into the seat when you jack-rabbit a stop light. Oh sure, I was young and
dumb for a while. On the way back from a lake excursion, we decided to see just how fast it
would go. Got up to 110 before I started to worry about a shimmy that I felt in the steering wheel.
Sure sign of a problem if you can feel anything through the steering wheel in an Old Chevy.
Oh, I'm not saying I never had to work on this car. But for the first 6 months I owned it, I didn't
know what to do with my self on the weekends. And then I had to change the oil. Whoopee! A starter here,
a water pump there. Turned it over to a "specialist" to fix a rear wheel bearing. Brakes, a fuel pump,
and I had the radiator patched 2-3 times. But this car was easy to work on for the most part. Shoot, all
you needed were 3 wrenches and occasionally a hammer. But its the fun-and-games road trips I prefer to remember.
Somehow or another, I gained a reputation as a safe driver. Or maybe it was all the "I'll buy if you fly" trips. Meaning my passenger would pay if I drove. Trips to the beach do that to me. There for a while I shared an apartment with one woman. Frequently on our excursions we'd swing by and pick up her sister, or there'd be one of her friends to ride a long. 20 miles of a 115 mile drive and they'd both be asleep. probably because of our "recreational" use as we left town. But it was cool, I had the radio and not much to talk about. So off we'd go. For a while we had a second woman living with us. There was one night she had to be at a club 65 miles away and was running late getting ready. Made that trip in just over 45 minutes. Thank goodness I knew that route well. Oh the adventures I and my attorneys have had. They're the ones who deemed it "The Whale". Go read "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" if you haven't. Now I know it's not a Cadillac El Dorado, but we've resembled the picture on the cover a number of times. |
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