I'm too tired to write this now, but at least wanted to get a post up to remind me that I want to write about my 1973 Plymouth Duster. Actually, it was the family car and it was passed down to me until I smacked it head on into a bus in 1981. Anyway, I'll tell the story of the Duster soon and how that beat up old Plymouth became the symbol of despair in my family.
Ironic that my dad writes about cars and the few times he actually bought a car, it was a disaster. First there was the Rambler, which rusted out in our backyard in Detroit and then the Duster which was beaten to shit by him, my brothers and finally me.
Watch this space for more to come. Maybe I'll even talk about the Dodge Aspen that followed the Duster.
3 comments:
Duster! Wow. I thought that was a really cool car when I was a kid.
I think it had a lot to do with the little tazmanian devil icon that went with it.
And the Rambler! yah! Dodge Dart Rambler. Doesn't get much better than that.
My dad kept me supplied with rusted out VW bugs and one square-back. These vehicles suited this burnt out hippie chic just fine.
A walking, talking stereotype.
He would buy cars off the side of the road habitually. Kept us (me and my 3 bros.) well supplied in our rust-bucket hell. His best suggestion ever was "put some drygas in the gas tank" I don't know why, but it got us through the emissions tests every time.
Now that I have my own kids driving, we kinda do the same thing, but the floors are stable and they actually pass inspection sans dry gas!
the Dusters had that cartoonish tornado logo,right?
Ang. Remember that little tin can you drove across the country in with the girls and the baby? Amazing.
We had a Rambler too. No seatbelts.
I got Gramps' '68 Ford Falcon, 3 speed on the column. Though I drove it around later on, had to turn it over to mom when I ran her 73 Chevy Station Wagon into the back of Marika Mitchell's car First time out with my license, picking up my sister from Bob's Big Boy. I was hysterical screaming and Elena had to slap me back to reality. "Shut up, you just wrecked Mom's car!"
oh yes! Snooks' hand-me-down red Cavalier hatchback.
We drove during the "Storm of the Century" All the way across the prairie.
I was trying to explain to John about a three-speed on a column the other day!
Remember when you rented that big SUV and we drove straight out into the Rockies - no destination, just a joy ride. We woke up in Estes Park and it was just like the North Pole!
Beautiful.
I miss our joy-rides!
Destination:Unknown.
We'll know when we get there!
That's what Rambler needs. A joyride to parts unknown.
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