First Car Feaver

Well, I hate to say it publicly, but my first car was a 74 Vega - the "ashtray" as my dads mechanic called it. It was pedestrian, but unbreakable. I pushed it to its limits, top-ended it @ 88mph side by side with my buddy's 4-banger 74 Mustang II, each with two passengers. We were all pretending to row, and the car was changing speed 5mph everytime we shifted weight.

My first encounter with an A-body was literally that. Me and a bud had just left the 7-11 with our daily Slurpees, and were heading no where in particular. The Vega was, well it was the Vega. Anyway, in the middle lane I come up close on a slow city truck, and with traffic on the left, I headed for the curb. Never any cars on this stretch, especially on a Sunday.. except this sunny Sunday afternoon. Yep, you guessed it, a parked car.

Well, I distinctly recall the No Stopping sign that was in front of me as I angled into the lane, so had to steer left. I aimed for the space left between the car and the sign, had it lined up perfectly when... the puny tires didn't clear the curb, instead bouncing me straight in line with the parked car.

Thank goodness for the belts, although the Slurpees weren't so lucky. I smelled coke syrup everytime I turned on the heat after that.

Once stopped, and it was quick, we realized we were fine. Of course, we laughed, then got out to survey the damage. Well it wasnt good, but it wasnt bad. The front end was pushed in, the front-hinged hood was pushed back about half an inch, and both headlights and bezels destroyed. We wrestled open the hood, and saw the front valence had pushed the rad onto the fan. By sitting on the motor, and pushing with both feet, the two of us were able to perform some Nascar style bodywork, needles to say, the rad leaked. The car fired up without a problem, and with two water stops we were able to get it home.

My dad was "impressed", and told me "you broke it, you fix it". I hunted around (not being a car guy yet), looking for the parts I would need - the whole front, the fenders were fine, as well as the hood, although it was tweaked to the point where it wouldn't fully latch. I never considered this a problem as being forward-hinged, it could only fly open if I could do 60 in reverse. Not too likely! A couple of years later (yes, it lasted me for 4 ), I was pulled over at Portage & Main (our main intersection), by a police officer who informed me my hood was open, and if I could please close it NOW. So there we are, me in the left lane, him beside me in the center lane, and all the traffic trying to get through the right lane. He mentioned something about having it towed, I tried harder. I pushed down, I tried pushing sideways, I pounded it, but it would not latch! Finally I was on my knees on the hood, hammering it with my weight. In desperation, I stood up, jumped as high as I could and STOMPED that hood closed. Yes! The officer just shook his head, got back in his car and waited for the light. Feeling both triumphant and belittled I sheepishly got in the car, fired her up in a cloud of blue smoke and turned left.

Getting back to the repairs, after finding out the panels were going to cost over $500, my dad's mechanic mentioned some guy who used to be "into" Vegas, and might have some parts. We called and he informed us that he cleared out everything he had, except he forgot about some behind a shed or something. Unbelievably the only piece he had left was a front end that was cut off through the fenders - complete with everything. When we arrived, we laughed - it was even the same beige as the one I drove. We gladly paid $100, picked it up and tossed it into the trunk of my dads 400 74 Newport - he still marvels at the size of that trunk! Thats where I turned my first wrenches.

OK..OK.. Enough about the Vega you say! What about the Dart reference I made earlier..

I'll get to that, but for all the stories that car provided, I have just a couple more.

Like the time I learned that Vegas have an internal fuel pump, and that if you stick a rag in as a temporary gas cap - and it falls in - the motor doesn't get no gas!

Or the time driving home at night when the Alternator light goes on. I immediately turned off the heat, shut off the radio, switched to parking lights, then coasted to a stop 10 seconds later when she died. Thanks for the warning!

Or the Monday morning I show up at our jobsite (was a student painter then) with the body slathered in grey primer, with the interior sitting in my basement coated in grey porch enamel, and me sitting on an old Pepsi crate.

Well.. the end was not unexpected. Lets face it, this girl was a junkie, an oil junkie, the more she used, the more she wanted. I always had cans in the trunk (not great idea in January - at least up North here!), and would joke to the gasjockey to check the gas, and top up the oil. Sure, performance was down - but down is relative. Our last ride was another nice Sunday. Driving in the right lane, I speed up to merge left (another blasted parked car), and when I tromp it, the motor really WAKES UP.. well, not really, but a four-banger with no exhaust WOKE ME UP! Well, it was a long, long, loud, everybody looking at the rusted, grey-primered POS belching blue smoke and sounding like a lawnmower on steroids, kind of ride home.. it was time.

Well, it knew it was time too. I parked it in the driveway, and walked away vowing I would never drive it again. Of course, after a cool-down beer, I came out to see what damage was inflicted. I lifted the hood (no.. it wasn't latched - had to open day after cop made me close it with a prybar.. to put oil in of course) and saw the rusty exhaust manifold blown completely apart. I knew this was not going to be fixed. No more time, no more money. I severed my ties with that car on the spot.

It had the last laugh of course.. I hopped in to move it on the grass. Turned the key, starter engaged, plugs firing, but this time there was no puff of blue smoke as the engine wheezed to life. Again I tried, again it wheezed. I climbed under the hood and looked around. I popped the dist cap, and thought I would make sure the timing belt didn't slip. Grabbing the crank pulley I effortlessly turned the motor towards TDC. Too effortlessly. It was like there were no plugs in it. There was absolutely no feeling of compression. No wonder it wouldn't run. I figured that the rusted, plugged muffler that was on it caused enough backpressure to pump up the cylinder pressure lol. Of course it smiled as I pushed it onto the grass. I admit I did feel a little sad when the wrecker popped the $50 in my hand and hooked her up, but there was a certain red fastback sitting at a garage on the way to my parent's cabin that was for sale. Of course, thats another story.

Back to the accident scene.

Of course this accident involved two vehicles, only one of which was mine. The other happened to be a Dart Swinger. I didn't know much about them, except my grandfather had a 74 Scamp 318, brown / tan vinyl roof and interior. This one was different though. Big bumper, little tailights in the bumper. I noticed this feature because the bumper and the tailights were pristine, not a scratch nor dent to be found. My front end on the other hand was twisted scrap. Our cars were locked together in some passionate embrace, with my bumper under the Darts. We flexed the "performance" shocks, and unhooked the two. I examined that rear end for damage. The bumper had no scuffs, lower valence was unmarked, two exhaust tips unscratched, tailights, trunklid.. fine. Then I sorta noticed the car. Nice black stripe, hmm nice car after all. Looks like two scoops had been added on the hood, and someone put those wires on to tie the hood down (like whats up with that!). Course I had no idea what I hit at the time, but fortunately except for the dent in the middle of the license plate, no damage done. It seemed that my bumper hit the license plate, then the Dart bumper just crushed my nose like an egg, and the rest of the bumper never made contact. We both laughed at how one car was so damaged and the other - none at all.

That was my second introduction to an A-body. But by no means my last..