Car Keys     
by R. Craig

 In the past I am sure I have mentioned some details of how I got hooked on cars but I am going to start from the beginning so maybe you will understand how people become automotive fanatics. And believe me, there are a lot of us out there. 

 It all started when I was about ten or twelve years old. My mother and brothers and sisters lived about three quarters of a mile from my uncle's farm which had been in the family since 1919 or so. Our roots were there so when I was bored at home I would ride my bicycle up to the farm to hang out or help with chores.

 It was a treat for me because I always had a fascination with anything with an engine and since there were tractors and other power equipment on the farm I saw an opportunity to learn to operate some of it when my uncle thought I was ready. Eventually my opportunity came and soon I was spending my summers on the tractors helping to make hay. I thought I was cool because I was on a big tractor and my friends were still on bicycles.  Because we had over 100 acres to play in with a few unused fields, my attention soon turned to cars. At that time you could buy a running car for almost nothing. 

 My first "field car" was a 1951 Plymouth sedan with a "flathead six" and a three speed manual transmission. I traded a 1949 Whizzer motorbike for it. I call it a motorbike because it wasn't a motorcycle but a bicycle with a small engine on it. It still had pedals in case the motor needed help going up
hills. It was actually the forerunner of we now know as a moped. It would be worth big dollars now if I still had it.  Anyway the first thing I did to the Plymouth was cut the roof off and remove as much as the body I could. It 
was not an official field car or "Doodlebug" as we called it if the body was intact. Then I took it to an unused field and simply abused it! 

 What a blast I had! 

 My friends and brothers soon had cars of their own and we spent many weekends tearing up that field. Even though gas was only about 25 cents a gallon at the time, we still had to come up with money for fuel, so lawn mowing jobs, babysitting, and paper routes were a source of income for our new hobby.

 As you can imagine, our cars didn't last long with the punishment we were giving them so either I had to learn to fix it or replace it with another. Until I learned some mechanical skills I went through a lot of field cars.

 Some of the cars I destroyed back then would be sought after collectibles today. I won't name the whole list but a couple of mention would be a 1947 Dodge panel truck - very rare even back then. Also a 1959 Crown Imperial that was loaded. If I only knew!

 I figured that if I was going to run these cars hard I had better learn how to fix them. So in the garage I built a small wooden work bench. I hung a automotive calendar above it, put an oil can and what few tools I had on it and I was ready to go. I would gather up old engine parts and disassemble them just to see what made them work.  My Mom would get annoyed by the junk I was collecting but figured I was staying out of trouble so she let me be. 

 In 1969 my Mom bought a brand new Plymouth Satellite two-door. I remember spending time sitting in it at night listening to the radio when everyone else was in the house watching TV. I can remember the smell of the new interior and  the songs on the radio. I still flash back to that time whenever I hear those songs. Soon after that my older brother bought a new 1970 Plymouth Duster. It was beautiful! It was black with a white interior, bucket seats, V-eight with a stick on the floor.

 Unfortunately it wasn't long after he bought the car that he was called to duty to serve in Viet Nam. The car had to stay in the garage on the side where my work bench was. Under the circumstances I did not complain. However I did make sure that it got some exercise by running down to the bottom of the road now and then.
 I found it necessary to "clean the carbon" out. That was the best excuse I had and the neighbors at the end of the road always knew when I was giving the car a workout on the bridge near their home. The screeching tires were a dead giveaway.

 By that time I had my drivers license and the hangout changed from the farm to one of the local gas stations when my buddies and I would help pump gas and tinker with our cars. We spent many summer nights hanging out listening to the radio which was always on in the shop and talking about cars and girls until the early morning hours. When we weren't at the station we would be "cruising" uptown with no particular place to go except to the drive-in or maybe stop at a burger stand for a snack. We always ended up back at the station before we called it a night. Those years were some of the best times of my life. I am starting to remember a lot of "adventures" I had at that time and I will share them at  another time. 

 Winter is half over and soon it will be time to start work on the hot rod. Can't wait. Stay tuned.