SAM’S FIRST CAR
I will never forget the first time I saw her. I thought, Oh, what a beauty and just look at the sleek and well-appointed lines. Best of all, it fell within my price limit of two-hundred dollars. My Granddaddy Smith loaned me the money to buy this beauty. I promised to repay him from my stipend earned at Benson’s Grocery Store. My granddaddy has accompanied me to a local car lot to buy my very first car. Looking back, I suppose it wasn’t so much as what I wanted, as to what I could afford. I finally decided on a 1940 Chevrolet sedan, slightly maroon in color. After all the paper work was completed I drove it home, I was as proud as any person ever had been with their first automobile. I looked over at Granddad Smith and said, “Thank you Granddad.” He replied, “I was glad to help you boy, just take good care of it.” “I will do that, I promise you,” was my answer.
Sam Walk and his first car.
The source of my pride and the envy of others was a 1940 Chevrolet sedan. We had paid $180.00 cash on the barrelhead for a smooth running beauty whose motor purred like a kitten. After we got back home, Granddad walked back to his house, while I just sat there and admired the most expensive thing I had every owned. I decided to check out all the features.
First, I tried the radio. Just silence, silencio, nothing, nada, no sound whatsoever, not even a hum or buzz. No problem, I can fix that. Besides, I was certain it was a burned out fuse. The cigarette lighter did not work either, that’s okay I had no real use for it. I flicked on the heater switch and held my hand near the vent. There was not a breath of air coming out of the vent. What the heck, who needed a heater in the summer; I could get that fixed later. Next, I started the engine and tried the windshield wipers. They came on, but made a noise similar to chalk on a blackboard. All I had to do there was replace the wipers. I quickly turned them off, because it’s not good to have metal scraping on car glass. I opened the glove box to see what was inside. Two pencils and a writing pen that had run out of ink. The bulb socket was empty. No problem, I could get a bulb at Briley’s Auto Supply, downtown. That was no mountain for a high stepper like me.
As I looked about inside the car, I focused on the dome light. I rotated the light switch on the dashboard, but the light would not come on. I don’t know why they put those things in cars anyway, who needs it. I got out of the car and looked under the front seats. Hey! What’s this? I felt some type of grill and rubbed my hand back and forth across it. Wow, I got down on the ground and rolled over on my back and slid under the car. It was some kind of a an exhaust fan underneath the front seat on the passenger’s side. Man, this baby was fully loaded. I paused to study the situation, to determine where the switch was that controlled the fan. There must be a switch somewhere inside the car, but I couldn‘t find it. I could live without such a luxury for the time being, besides I can make a more thorough search for the phantom exhaust fan switch later. I wondered why they would put an exhaust fan under the seat and no way to activate the darned thing.
I started the engine again and drove the car inside the garage. I turned on the headlights and saw them light up the garage wall. Then I drove the car out and backed it into the garage and pressed the brake pedal, I could see the red glare of the brake lights. Shoot, all the important features were operative and dependable. I could start it, guide it, stop it and turn it off, I was ready to hit the road.
I drove the car back to the side of the house, parked it and then walked around it several times. She was indeed a beauty! I could save up a few bucks and get some new tires at the Western Auto Store. I would just have to be careful and not drive to fast until I could score some new shoes for my ride. The paint job wasn’t the best I had ever seen, but I figured I could borrow a paint sprayer and whip a professional paint job on it in no time at all. Surely, I knew someone that painted cars. If push came to shove, I could just carefully paint it with a brush. I would have to explore that subject a little further.
I got back inside the car and looked in the rear view mirror. Hmmm, a little off angle, I moved it just a skosh and the dadgum thing came off in my hand. I sat there holding the mirror and thought, who in the heck puts these things together, the Chinese? Not a problem, I could find a screw somewhere around the house that would fit better than the one that was in it. I got out of my “sweet ride” and walked to the front of the car. I bent over and looked for the hood release. I found the lever, gave it a flick, and raised the hood. Oh, mama!
I let my eyes lovingly roam over the power plant. It was a straight six-cylinder block with overhead tappets. I had heard that there was a lot of power in the Chevy straight six. I could hardly wait to get this “muscle buggy” on the road. I turned loose of the hood to peer a little further back into the engine compartment, when everything suddenly went dark and a heavy weight crashed down on my shoulders. I forced the hood back up and noticed that a spring was missing on one side of the hood. There shouldn’t be too much of a problem finding one of those at the auto parts yard. Until then I would make sure I carried a board of appropriate length to prop the hood up while I made repairs and did routine maintenance. If I had any doubts about the car’s worth up to this point, the exhaust fan under the seat and the “hot” engine, removed them entirely. Yes sir, this baby was a runner!
It was time to check the trunk and see how much space I had there and to make certain there was a jack and spare tire. I opened the trunk lid and looked inside. Man, talk about space, I could pile all sorts of camping equipment in there. The trunk was as bare as Mother Hubbard‘s cupboard. I figured I could get me a slightly used spare tire at Alexander’s Garage and I’m positive I had seen car jacks at the Western Auto Store. I thought to myself, I wonder why Granddaddy didn’t check out some of these things before we left the car lot.
Well, for $180.00, I would say we made a good choice. Admittedly, she was a fixer upper, but I would enjoy doing the necessary repairs that would bring her up-to-snuff and a real road demon. I also had some wonderful plans for adding a few extra frills to both the inside and outside of the car. I backed off and took another good look at my newly acquired roadster. I thought, maybe I will get one of those “flying goose” hood ornaments. That would really tie everything together, plus add a little sophistication. I could easily visualize the “chrome goose” sitting there on the hood, especially at night with the green plastic wings all lit up. I could call my car the “flying goose.” Nah, on second thought that sounded pretty lame. Besides, the girls I planned on inviting for a ride, might find the name a bit awkward. I’ll have to think it over, before finally deciding on a nick name for my car.
The first night, I seriously thought about sleeping in my new car, but figured Mom, would nix that in a hurry. The next day was a school day and I needed to get a good night’s rest. Besides, I was a little giddy about driving to school the next morning and showing my new “older” car to my friends.
The following morning I was up at dawn. I hurried through breakfast and gave my sister, Betty, a ride to school. I knew she must be one proud sister, to be traveling in such a fine chariot. When we got close to school, I had the opportunity of waving at my friends. Upon arrival at school, I parked the car and we walked to the main school building. I supposed everyone was stunned, seeing me in my own car, because no one said anything about it. Between classes, I told a few close friends about my new, used car. They seemed impressed, but not as excited as I thought they would be. Of course, they wouldn’t get the full impact until they saw it. Then they would all be begging for a ride.
Later that afternoon in study hall, someone standing by a window, shouted, “Hey someone’s had a bad wreck in the parking lot.” We all ran to the window to look. There was no wreck that we could see and the parking lot appeared deserted. Then the blabbermouth said, “Oh, never mind, it’s just Sam’s car.” That rude comment cut me to the quick and I really didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t believe someone would talk that way about my new ride. My best friend, R.L. Clark, walked over to me and said, “Hey, don’t worry about it, they’re just jealous.”
That old 1940 Chevy and me were inseparable over the next three years. It wasn’t pretty, but it turned out to be very dependable transportation and lot’s of fun. Besides, it opened my eyes to believing that miracles really do happen. One day, while driving along a dirt country road, I hit a “teeth chattering” hole in the road and the radio came on! I had been working on the radio for a month, trying to get it produce some kind of noise. I also discovered a loose wire to the exhaust fan, underneath the front seat and reconnected it. Viola! The fan started running. When I showed my car off to anyone, I would always make them aware of the exhaust fan under the passenger’s seat. As far as I knew, my car was the only one that had such a thing.
There was one little problem with the exhaust fan. When it sucked a piece of paper or other loose debris into the blades, it sounded like a motorbike and would scare the bejeebers out of both me and my passengers. I finally disconnected the wire again and put that feature to rest.
One weekend, while daddy was home on leave from Ft. Hood, he decided to paint my car. He got a brush and a bucket of green, high gloss, house paint and went to it. About half way done, a cold front passed through the area and caused the paint to become sticky. When daddy got through painting the car, it had very noticeable brush marks and little swirls on it. The next day, Saturday, daddy told me, “Let’s go get some gas.” Actually, he wanted to show his work off to some of his friends. We drove down to Alexander’s Gas station and pulled in.
One of the attendants walked out and started laughing. When daddy told him he had painted the car himself, he said, “With what, Sarge, a broom?” We got our gas and drove off. Daddy consoled me, “Don’t worry about it son, I think it looks a lot better than it did.” I realized at that moment, that I would have to live with what I had, so I might as well make the most of it. I eventually sanded down some of the ruffles and swirls and rubbed it down with motor oil.
Original and funny signage was a required element in those days. We didn’t have bumper stickers, so we made up our own by hand. A couple of signs I had in the back window was, “Follow me for spare parts,” and “For all girls who smoke, throw your butts in here.” None ever did. Here’s two more, “I may be slow but I'm ahead of you,” and “If you can read this, I've lost my trailer.” I believe you get the general idea.
There was another time when I decided to turn my car into a hot rod. I ordered a cheap tailpipe “Y” from Sears. It was a piece of flexible pipe that hooked to the tail pipe and then split into two pipes, with chrome thingies on each end. Now my ride looked like it had “twin pipes.” The next thing I did was go out to Flat’s Service station, the owner’s son was a school chum of mine, and get a “used” Hollywood Muffler installed. We got the job done and when I started the car up, she sounded like she had twelve cylinders. It surpassed my expectations and I was extremely pleased.
Over the next couple of days, I removed the two side panels on the hood, so you could see the motor, then painted the tappet cover gold and the engine block silver. To make it show up nice at night, I installed a red light to the inside top of the hood. Once again, it looked better than I had expected. The next Saturday night, me and a couple of my buddies drove some eleven miles to Clifton. We were looking and sounding good with the twin pipes emitting a low rumbling noise; the chrome goose on the hood, with its green wings lit up and then finally, the gold and silver motor with the red light shining on it. The entire kit and caboodle cost me twenty-five bucks. I have never seen anything like it before or since.
When we got to Clifton, we had only made one noisy lap through town, before a Texas Highway Patrolman stopped us. It was night and as he walked up to the car, I got out and said, “Hello officer.” He didn’t say one word to me. He walked up to the car and look through the opening at the elegantly painted engine, illuminated by the red light and said, “What in the hell do you have in that thing?” I replied, “Nothing really, it’s just paint.” As I followed along, he walked to the back of the car and said, “That sounds like illegal mufflers.” I responded with, “Well, it is a Hollywood muffler, but those are just fake twins I got from Sears and Roebuck.”
I had forgotten to cut the engine off when I had stopped. We were standing at the back of the car, with the twin pipes throbbing away. I thought, why doesn’t one of the guys inside the car have enough sense to turn the engine off. It was like getting caught standing over a body with a smoking pistol and saying, “What?” The officer put his boot on the back bumper and opened his ticket book. It was time to beg, “Please don’t give me a ticket. My granddaddy is the County Attorney and he’ll take my car.” The patrol officer replied, “Do you mean, Sam Smith?” “Yes, he’s my granddaddy.” He closed his ticket book and said, “Take this thing back home and get rid of that illegal muffler and put the panels back on the hood. Now, get going!” With tremendous relief, I said, “I’ll go home right now and fix it. That was the end of my hot rod days.
Another funny stunt I did was to hang a battery-operated light bulb from the dome light. It hung on a regular foot long piece of household electric cord and looked like I had installed a regular 120-volt light bulb in the car. When you pulled the chain, the bulb actually came on. I would also stick funny post cards on the passenger side window. More than once, I would return to my car and find several people standing next to the window looking at the cards and laughing. Here’s the way my poor old friend looks today. I almost want to run up to it and say, “Hey! Remember me?”
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