The first family car I remember was Sick Green Betsy. Sick Green Betsy was a ’56 Chevy and of course it had no air conditioning. Really the only thing I remember about the car was the ugly green color and the famous bulbous shape of the roofline. And I really only remember the latter because, if you were tasked with washing the car at age 9 (me) and age 7 (my brother), there was only one way to reach the top and that was to climb up there. And, of course, then there was only one way down – to treat that roofline as your very own waterslide. Make sure the hose was on full, there was lots of soap still to be rinsed off and slide right off! We may have only done that once. I suspect we either weren’t asked again or had closer supervision, but both of us remember that as great fun. Sick Green Betsy (you had to use her full name) would have been eleven or twelve years old at that point.

When Sick Green Betsy retired, Mom came home with Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Brown’s paint job was a flat dull brown and if it ever had a shine to it I don’t remember it. A ’64 Galaxy 500, she wasn’t that old when my folks bought her from a work colleague of my Mom’s and he maintained it faithfully until we moved to San Antonio. After that the car was on its own.

Mrs. Brown had character. She had an under the dashboard, air conditioner that didn’t do much for the backseat during a San Antonio summer, but was better than nothing. She had power assist steering that was challenging on its own but this is what the steering wheel looked like. At five feet and a little bit, I could just see over it. My one claim to fame was that I managed to parallel park it perfectly one time – when it mattered during my driving test.

If any one ever wanted to steal her, she had a hidden anti-theft device. You had to know to reach over the steering wheel, grab the gear shift and pull it up past the D or she wouldn’t turn over. If you ever had the front windows slightly open and shut its door vigorously, (which you needed to since they were heavy), the window would drop down into the door. The only way to fix it was to use a pair of pliers to pull it up and get it back on track. This explains all the chips in the top of the window. For the last two years we owned her, we couldn’t get into the trunk; the key simply turned around and around in the lock. We had no idea what was in there, but I guess we never missed it.

And then there was the radiator. Mom saw no reason to spend money on that car and of course, the car wasn’t built for any kind of air conditioner, so any given summer day would find one or the other of us pulling into a gas station with steam pouring out from under the hood. We’d wait for the radiator to cool enough to take the top off and add water. Can you tell? I hated that car. But if I wanted to drive anywhere that was my option.

The final straw for me, and as it turned out, for my dad, was one of the rare times I drove to school. Mom must have been out of town. Driving home with my friend Connie, I thought the breaks felt funny. They gave out completely as we headed downhill toward the intersection with I-10. Luckily, the gas station on the corner had a small hill off to the side, and I was able to roll to a stop rather than have to choose which thing to hit. Connie called her Mom to come get us. I called my Dad and we never saw Mrs. Brown again. I think Dad paid to have her towed off. By the time Mom got home, there was a new car in the garage. She wasn’t happy about it, sure that it would never last as long or be as dependable. (We could debate that last one.) Spoiler alert – it did and it was. My brother eventually inherited it and later sold it when he lived in New Hampshire where it was a valuable commodity since it had no salt rust.

With a company car, someone else was charged with taking care of it, so Mom’s series of interesting cars came to an end, but they were forever part of family lore.

This month, it will be a year since my Mom died so she’s on my mind a lot this week. It felt like the right time to share a “Mom story” and I hope it made you smile as it did me.

I’d love to hear about any of your favorite car stories. What car did you learn to drive in? Did it have personality? What adventures did you have? I hope the memories make you smile as well.

Take care,

Gage

PS: Mom never violated the 8th commandment of Texas Highways (see below) as far as I know. She was stopped twice on the way home from dropping me off at college and at least one of those times, told the officer he stopped her because she was the only one he could catch. He allowed as how that was probably so.

More recently an officer tailed her, lights flashing, most of the way down a country road between San Marcos and New Braunfels. When she parked he asked her if she ever looked in her rearview mirror. I think even she was embarrassed by that one. 🙂

Quote of the Week

“VIII. Thou shalt not slowpoke it in the fast lane, for it is called that for a reason. It is not only a sin of its own accord, but it begets others, such as rude gestures, foul language, violent thoughts, and tailgating.”

John Nova Lomax

“The Ten Commandments for Driving on Highways in Texas” from “Texas Highways”
https://texashighways.com/travel-news/the-ten-commandments-for-driving-on-highways-in-texas/