My Next Car
My next vehicle after the Pontiac was a really sweet ride – a 1965 Chevy Malibu Super Sport. With a baby blue paint job and chrome accents it looked great too. It was my first car with bucket seats and a shift on the floor – not manual, but rather an automatic.
I went to a lot of places around town, Renton and beyond. My girl friend and I would drive in and around the little parks alongside of Lake Washington up on the Seattle side of the lake. We’d park and watch the nightly submarine races.
My Brother Was What???
My brother went in for more muscular cars. He had a ’67 Plymouth GTX four speed (only 45 ever made) that he used to drive around the loop in downtown Renton, and frequented the local hang out burger joint, Herfy’s. It was very much American Graffitti. More so than I knew at the time.
I didn’t find out until years later that he was a local drag racer, competing each weekend on the local strip. (In 1973 he was crowned King of the Road at the SeaFair Nationals). I should have got a clue when he approached me one time about doing a favor for a friend of his. This friend was getting too many tickets with his car. And he wanted to trade me straight across for my Malibu. I was kind of skeptical, but my brother assured me it was great deal, that I would be coming out ahead value wise.
The Rest of the Story
So, that is how I became the proud owner of a 1969 Plymouth Road Runner. Dark green with two broad non-reflective black racing stripes on the hood. The 383 hemi engine had some extras, it had been blueprinted to lighten the weight and bored out to receive a 440 racing cam. There was a whole lot of petal I didn’t use after reaching the speed limit. And with a bench seat it was much nicer to take to the submarine races.
It was great transportation. It saw me through 3 and a half years of college and we took it on our honeymoon.
Sadly, when it came time to sell it, it was stolen from in front of my folks’ house and taken on a joyride. The perps rolled it and it was adjudged totalled at the junk yard that retreived it. (I still wonder about complicity on the part of the junkyard).
All in all though, I only have one regret – I sure wish I had kept the purple horn button.
Beep beep!
