left to right: Uncle Bob, Aunt "Diney", me, baby Cheryl, Dad |
Technically this was my first car, and I was all of nine years old. (That's me, the little kid sitting up on top.) Granted, it didn't run (no engine), but I had no driver's license anyway! Dad got it just for me to play on (although I guess the idea was mine, and probably involved much nagging and begging). Now I'm no longer sure of the original story of where/how Dad got it, but presumably from a junkyard for perhaps $25. I just remember a tow truck showing up and dropping it off. The beloved 1955 Chevy Bel Air then sat out in the backyard for a number of my pre-teen years, and was the centerpiece of many hours of play. Finally,
after a few blissful years, Dad suspected that the neighbors regarded it
as an embarrassing eyesore, and convinced me that we had to get rid of it
(I was maybe 14 then)... I immediately built my own playhouse (kinda a tree house
but on the ground) on the hallowed spot where it had rested, which, in
retrospect was probably no less an eyesore than the car had been. |
