First Car Feaver

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stansblue72

stansblue72

one of one 1953 ME!
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Marysville, Washington
Back in 1971 at the age of 17 my dad finnally relented and informed me that I could get my first car. Wow! I thought what should I get a mustang, camero, chevell, 57 chev the possibilities seemed endless. After a few trips to the local car dealerships it became evident that what I wanted wasn't exactly what Dad was going to let me get. I was working with my Uncle at the time after school and on the weekends spraying acoustic cealings - you know that stuff people call popcorn cealing, the stuff everyone scrapes off now!
Anyway I come home one night and Dad says Come on We have to go pick up your car. He wouldn't tell what it was only that it had a new paint job, was jacked up in the back and had crome wheels and new tires. By now as you can imagin I was one happy teenager. So we get to the car lot and there it is a 1961 ford falcon 170 six with a three on the tree. $185 of my hard earned dollar and it was mine, I was in LOVE!
The amazing thing about that falcon is the amount of punishment it could take! Thinking back on it now I can now understand why my Dad would only let me have a car with a six cylinder in it for my first car. I learned alot of stuff with that falcon, like how to change a three speed tranny (four times)
Seems power shifting wasn't really a good thing to do with it! Popping the clutch was another thing not to good to do (only took 3 clutch plates to figure that one out). After i gaduated I talked dad into letting me get a different car and wound up with a 66 ford galixy 390 two barrel auto. Guttless as all get out but hay I had a V8!!! Drove the crap out of that for about 8 or 9 months with out even breaking the poor thing down, one day going by the local Chevy dealer guess what caught my eye!! A 1970 Dodge Dart Swinger 340 Auto twin hood scoops blue with a white vinyl roof white stripe around the back and 32000 miles on it. Headed right home and drug Dad down to the dealership, he finnally gave in and it was mine. His exact words where well it's only a Dodge Dart with a small V8 can't believe it has to much power. I agreed with him of coarse!!! About three hours later I found out just how much power a 1970 plymouth fury with a police interceptor 440 it had. I was doing about 95 MPH when I looked in my mirror and told my pal Hey there's lights coming up on me. Damm those thing where fast!!! Lucky for me the state patrolman gave me a break and only gave me a ticket for doing 70 in a 50. So that was the start of my passion for MOPARS it took a few autos to get there but I concider the dart my first REAL CAR!
What was yours?
 
o yeah i can relate, well kinda im 18, my first car was my dodge in my sig, 225 straight six, very slow, but still fun. i did my first engine swap at 16 haha :headbang: pretty sweet, now more down the road, of learning fire safety and burning my arm badly, im having to grow up with that, and now i have a barracuda which ive put alot of work into, but man like the dart the final results will be worth it
 
My first car was a dark green 68 Sport Satellite - 318, auto, console w/ 2 tone green bucket seat interior, AC, cruise control, lighting package & Cragar SS wheels. I decided that the 318 just wasn't cuttin' it, and told my dad & brother I wanted to drop a 440 in. They happened to find a 70 340 in a junk yard from a radical looking Swinger, that was missing the intake. The guy at the yard convinced me that this was a hot little motor, & the engine swap would be a whole lot easier, so I bought it. I bolted on an Eddy Torker manifold and a factory AVS carb & dropped it in. Next came some headers with cherry bombs... & a tidal wave of moving violations.

My next ride was a '71 Roadrunner. 383, 4 speed pistol grip, bench seat, with the air grabber hood. That's a car I wish I still had. Oh well, maybe I'll find another one.

I was always a Mopar fanatic as my brother bought a GTX new in '67, and as a kid, I wanted one of those HEMI Cuda's (still do).

Ahhh... memory lane is alway better with huge tire marks on it! :lol:
 
My story is similar, but 20 years later (class of '92). I had a brief encounter with a '78 cutlass 6 banger... hated it, and tore up the trans slamming it into gear to do burn outs. I then got my "real" first car, a '68 barracuda fastback. It was only a stock 318 auto, but it had enough to continually shut down my friends '72 cutlass 350-4 brl, numerous 5.0 mustangs, tuned port trans am's, and many other local kids. Man, I wish I would have kept that car!
 
I know what you mean. I was always going to keep the dart but wound up trading it in in 1977 and got a whopping $1,300 for it. Still cry in my beer over that one!
 
My first car of my very own my uncle took me to an action to buy a car so I could take my grand mother to pick up groceries and to work in the fields that was far from camp. We brought home a 68 4 door Monaco, Dark blue and very very fast!
383 4 barrel car. I drove that car for one season, I picked it up in plant city Fla.
drove it to Grand rapids Mich for apple season then back to Fla for strawberry season.
My mom took over that car and then a farmer sold me a flat bed ford I I think it was a 64 model with a 292 ci.
Then I got my first A bodie a 1965 valiant wagon with a/c and spoon dish wheels and a 273 v8. Got my first peace of lovin in it at silver springs Fla.
I traded it for a 70 XL ford with a 351 and drove it to Arkansas to meat my father and older brother for the first time in 9 years.When I got there my brother had a 68 roadrunner and they lived in a nice home. At this time I was 16.
I then picked up a 318 primer gray barracuda and never looked at anything ells but a mopar.
 
My first car was a 70 Dart bought it when i was 15 paid $300 for it.
It had been hit in the left front so i replaced the fender,hood,grille and bumper with parts i manged to find in the local junkyards.
The engine was shot so i pulled another 318 out of a wrecked 68 Coronet that my cousin owned,he had rolled while being drunk and stupid.
Primered it gray and drove it for 2 years and being young and dumb i sold it,i still wish i had it yet.
 
My first car was a hand me down from my parents, a 1959 Austin Cambridge, ugh, slow, ugly, 4 doors, but at least I had a ride. I beat it into submission in no time and off to the crusher it went. I bought a 64 Ford Farilane Sports Coupe with a 289 after that, my first real car :toothy7: I've probably had 30 or so different ones since but this Duster is my first Mopar, other than the Jeep which was an AMC before Mopar bought them I think?
 
73 340 4spd Duster yellow with a white stripe package nice fast car.
 
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..
 
My first car was a '63 Buick Riviera that I bought in 1976 for $500.00, It had a 425 and a posi so I went thru plenty of rear tires. Nothing better than being 16 and being able to smoke the tries at will. I was a diehard Buick guy until 1991 when I kicked GM to the curb and started buying Mopars.


Chuck
 
Hi people! thought I would tell you (as Paul Harvey would say) The rest of the story, of my first night with the dart. To tell this part I have to go back to when I was driving the FURD Falcon, I was 17 then and my broth-in-law gave me a beer while I was at their house one night. Not being a beer drinking guy back then (mainly because of a bad experience with a guy named RALLLLPHHHH after drinking a few hamm's drafts at the age of 15) I put the unopened bottle of beer in the glove box of my falcon. That beer stayed there through all the torture that I inflicted on thet poor little falcon. It all so road in the glove box of the Galaxi and finnally found it's was to live in the glove compartment of the 70 dart. So now that that is explaned back to the night and my visit with the state patrolman. After being pulled over the nice officer invited me to sit in his patrol car with him. His first question was "What in the hell did you thing you where doing blowing by be sitting on the side of the road? "and "Just how fast where you going?" I didn't tell him that that was two question not one! So I explained to him that I had just bought the car that day, didn't see him sitting there because it was dark and was watching the road not the speedometer.
Next question he had was, "how much beer have you drank?" "because I can smell it on you!" So I informed him that I only had two. Later in life I would learn that this is always the answer to that question. Next he wanted to see the paper work to show that I had just bought the car. As we walked back to my dart I remembered the beer in the glove box that was sitting on top of my sales papers. Now my friend who was sitting in my car waiting for my return knew about the famous beer in the glove box!! So I rushed to his side of the car tapped on the window and informed him as quickly as I could talk to get the paper work out of the glove box. He tore the glove box door open grabbed the beer and shoved it between his legs all without the patrolman seeing. But a funny thing happens when you shove a hard round object between you leg while sitting down like that.... Hard round object meet two somewhat oval object causing males extrem pain in the nuther regions of their Anatomy. The officer did look him over pretty good with the flashlight prior to looking at my paper work. Then asked me to have a seat in his patrol car again. He then said that he should give me a DUI because I was drinking and driving, but he could tell that I wasn't effected all that much by the beer I had drank. So then he thought he would give me a neglegent driving ticket for being stupid. And finnally ended up giving me a ticket for doing 70 in a 50, with instruction to go home park my car and take care of my friend because he could tell he was wasted from the look on his face. (funny thing is Vic hadn't drank a thing) I got back in my car, the officer left and Vic asked in a very pained vioce as he was trying to take a breath "Now! can I throw this FU***ING beer out!!! I politely responded YES!
 
Yeah, I know how you guys feel. My first car, my dad made me
buy! 56 Chevy 4dr. The front fenders flapped going down the
road. 3 wheel brakes and a heater core that leaked. I drove it
for 6 months. Came home with my first Duster. 71 sassy grass
twister. It had orignal size tires on the front. 6.95-14 and
the rear tires were G60-14s. He about came unglued. He was a
Chevy guy. God rest his soul. But he did come to like it.
 
My first car was a 71 Duster 318 3 spd that I bought off of my mom! It had Fenton slots on it and a ton of rust but it was mine!

A couple of weeks ago, my Mom brought over a box that had some of my old books in it. At the bottom of the box was a polaroid picture of that car that I hadn't seen in almost 30 years. Talk about a flood of memories!

I am currently trying to figure out how I can save this picture. It is not in the greatest shape. I was thinking about taking it to the local photography studio and seeing if there was anything the could do for it. Would like to at least scan it so I'll have a copy whenever threads like this pop up.
 
My first car was a 27 T 2 door sedan body, frame and steering wheel that my dad got when I was 2 years old. I played in it untill I was about 12 and traded it for a 73 El Camaino, sold that and got a 56 F-100 and took the subframe and running gear out of a 79 buick estate wagon and put it in the truck (all this with the help of my dad when I was about 13), sold the truck got a 75 pacer for 60 bucks, parted it out, picked up some chevies for a couple of years, then got a 70 challenger with a slant six that someone cut a hole in the roof and installed a sunroof with a hot glue gun. Drove that for about 6 months and traded it for a 77 Lil Red clone with a balls out 383/4 speed/8 3/4 with 3.91 suregrip. After that truck it was all mopars and now I have the 73 Scamp (atleast for another 5 hours...sold) 72 scamp, 53 mercury pick up with a volarie clip and a 360 (truck used to be my dads and I bought it from his best friend), and a 27 T coupe that I may trade the body for the same 27 T 2 door sedan body that I grew up playing in!!!
 
My first car at 15 was the fishing car my parents had bought. A 1966 Valiant 100 with 3 on the tree and a newly rebuilt 225. I made payments to my parents. That car got me through high school and college. It was a really strong /6 and would lay down some peg-leg rubber easily. Many times I sat at a stop light and thought the engine had died. That's how quite that motor was. Stored it for 7 years then shipped it to my new home in Cali. I still have it but I fell in love with a 66 convertible valiant and the original 66 became a parts car. Parts from my first 66 will live on in the new 66 vert.
 
My first was in '87 when I was 15, I bought a 70 "n" code 383 Barracuda that was hemi orange(tor red) with tan interior (awesome color combo). I traded it 1/2 a year later for my demon. I kinda wish I had kept it a little longer as I never even got a chance to drive it. I do kinda know where it is if I ever fall into a well of money.
 
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