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We all got a little misty eyed when we think of our cars and how they ran, got stolen, wrecked, burned, rusted, ect.... BUT how about your favorite personal car story? Sit back, close your eyes and tell us all about it....
 

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Well I'll get it started. In the late '80's my father owned an import auto business just outside Peru Indiana. Well the Wabash River runs through the middle of the town and every year there is a raft race. My father wanted my friends and I to build a raft for the race. My father donated a '61 beetle to use for the race. My friends and I removed the body from the chassis over a few (too many) beers. We places a bed rail frame inside the body and a Plywood frame over the bedrails. We cut the top of the beetle to make a much too large sunroof. While enjoying the beers we of course had to empty our bladders. Right out side the door was an old Datsun B-210. We used this car for our restroom. The top of the car...Under the hood...On the interior...In the gas tank...EVERYWHERE!! We had a standing joke to go visit the Datsun. We invented creative ways of urinating on the car. Understand please this was a just out of high school last fling with the buddies! We had a great time placing Black painted 55 Gal drums into the wheelwells of the beetle and welding Hubcaps on. Needless to say after many cases of my Dads beer we had a good time. On the last day of the build one of my friends went out to visit the Datsun and it was gone. I asked my Dad what happened to the Datsun and he told me that he had just sold it. My friends and I were stunned. The Urinemobile was gone. I still to this day wonder who bought the car and what happened to them on the first hot humid indiana day. That car must have had some very interisting smells. By the way did anyone here buy an old Datsun B 210????????
 

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For Sale

Datsun B210. Body has salt stains all over it and a yellow discoloration to it. On humid days the car does give off a strange oder that all dogs seem to be attracted to. Gets great gas mileage but runs a little rough almost like it runs on something other than gas as well. Dealership can't figure it out but swears it has plenty of "wang" left in it. At first it was a strong runner but now seems a little petered out.
 

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Speaking of B-210's, that was the first car I ever drove with a manual.

After theater practice one afternoon some of the girls had to get home and the theater coach said we could use his car to take them, but did I know how to drive a stick? Well, what self-respecting red-blooded American male would ever admit they did not know how to drive a stick, so I said yes. Getting out of the parking space and on the road was a little jerky but everything was going great until we got to the first girl's house.

Her driveway sloped down from the street and went about 1 and a half car lengths to a garage door. I made the mistake of pulling into the driveway to let her out. Now I had to back out up a hill... and her father was watching from the front porch. (This was before I learned about using the handbrake to hold the car while letting out the clutch.) Needless to say I used a little too much gas to ensure no stalling and rolling forward into the garage door and left some nice burnout marks on the drive. Her father did not seem amused for some reason. Probably thought I was showing off for the girl.
 

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The neighbors had a '65 Impala SS 396. This car had every option. The neighbor, Buster, was the second owner and had owned it since the late 60's. It had been barely scraped once, enough for Buster to replace the fender, and he cracked a ring and had the original engine replaced with the 250 6 cyl. At one point, the car had been taken off the road and parked in their yard, minus the head and carb.

My brother offered them $50 one day, about 1979 or so, and they took it. He towed it home, bought a head/intake/carb for $25, a set of chrome Chevy type wheels for $25, and had the thing driving for $100! We tried tracing down the 396, but we believe it was left out back of the shop where it was taken out to cease up with rust.

My brother sold it within a couple of months, made a few hundred, and was happy. I wasn't. I spent a few afternoons cleaning the interior up with 409 and a scrub brush. It had about 10 years worth of mildew, but the original apolestry was perfect, as was the carpet, door panels, and all of the accessories worked, even all 4 power windows!

A few years later, we saw the car in a local junkyard, you could tell by the 396 emblem missing off of the replaced fender, and the console had been cut out for a B&M shifter. We knew that's what the second owner had done when he took the power glide out. We went back the next weekend to see if we could buy it from the junk yard, but it was gone. We asked Ronnie, the owner, if they had recently taken any cars to the crusher and he said no, but he couldn't remember if anyone had bought that particular car or not.

I wish I had bought the car from my brother. I was too young to drive, but I could've worked on it for a few years before and had a really nice car.
 

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lord,I was born a Ramblin man........

When I was a puppy,I had a 63 Rambler station wagon.

It was silver,or at least until I ran it through a carwash and discovered it was pink,while the silver paint was blowing off.

It was a death trap.

When you put the car in 2nd low,the accellerator would stick like a cruise control from hell....it would keep increasing speed without any help from my foot.

This would have been cool,except there were no brakes,unless you pumped them 50 times,then it would just lock up and skid.

The front suspension was whack,so when you went down a hill, over 35 mph,it would hop like lowrider Impala in a hydraulics contest.

I lived in it for a short time and had the back windows painted silver for privacy.
I had filled the car up with budweiser cans,Mcdonalds wrappers and assorted 7-11 food wrappers....home sweet home.

I used to take the pals joyriding like it was thier last ride.
The spare tire compartment was filled with ice and beer,always leaving a trail of melted ice water.


one Dog Day Afternoon,...I was putting a starter into my 442 project.
The holes wouldn't line up,so I had to keep taking out the starter and headers,banging the pipe to make room for the starter to line up.
It wasn't until the header pipe was almost flat when I realized the starter mount on the block was busted off.
I saw half an ear with a half threaded hole.Evidently,the prick that sold the 442 to me failed to mention this huge oversight.

I was so pissed,that I picked up a huge rock and was about to start bashing the crap out of my 442.

My buddy showed up at just the right time and saved the car from certain destruction.

He said,"why destroy all that work on the 442 when ya got the Rambler sitting right there?"

Say no more...I commenced to busting out the windows of the 63 Rabler wagon.

It felt so good that I grabbed a mountain axe and started bashing the piss out of it with the pick end.
I sunk huge pick holes into virtually every square inch of the body and even bashed the engine, until unrecognizable.

I can't tell you how good that felt.
I had to pay the junk man to take its puctured steel corpse away, it seemed that there wasn't enough left of it to recycle.

The 442 went back to the guy who sold it to me but he dogged me out of my money.
Someday,I will run into him on the street and he'll surely wish I treated him as nicely as the Rambler,on it's last day.
 

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one more for the road......

...when I was a much older puppy,I bought a 70 Ford panel van from a buddy.

It was an old plumbing van that had been sent into the woods to die.
There were no windows left and live blackberry bushes had filled the vans interior.

Field mice had made it into a comfortable home.


Well,after a new 302,3-on the tree tranny,new glass,resurrected paint job,nice rims and tires and a completley gutted and customized interior,I was in business.

It was a great ride until a fateful Halloween night in 1996.

I was at a buddy's house,(the same dude who sold it to me)sucking up waaaay too many Budweisers.

When it was time to go home and face the wife,I was 4 sheets to the wind.

I decided to get a bag'o Mcdonalds cheesburgers to sponge up the alcohal while driving down the hiway 30 miles away from home.


There was a car next to me, that for some weird reason,would not let me get over into it's lane.
Everytime that I would speed up to pass and get into his lane,he would speed up and prevent me from doing so.
When I tried to slow down and get into his lane,behind him,he would slow down and prevent me from executing a lane change.
As I was approaching home,he still wouldn't let me get over to get to my house.

I was getting pissed.

I finally gunned it and shot in front of him.

He sped up and let me clip him.

Wanting to avoid a certain DWI,I tried to ditch him.
I drove into a side road that turned out to be a dead end.
He boxed me in.

I decided to play matador and drive right through him,removing his front end.
I shot straight into oncoming traffic and was sideswiped by an approaching SUV.
It ripped the side off my van and tore the rubber off my rims.

By now,there were ambulances and citizens chasing me,all the while I'm shooting sparks of my bare rims like a bad episode of COPS.

...eventually, I wrecked again and bolted on foot for a laundrymat,where I was soon apprehended.
I was placed into the cop car, where I had an uncontrollable fit of purging cheeseburgers and beer.

I quit drinking like a schoolboy after that night.

Several thousand dollars in restitution,subrogation,lawyer fees,court fees,and alcohal schools later,not to mention a van that wasn't worth getting out of impound,led me to finally learn from the errs of my ways.
 

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My first car: 1973 Plymouth Road Runner, bought in 1984 second (or rather, third) hand. It was originally Red, repainted Black, had white "Starsky & Hutch" type-stripe along sides. Powerplant: 340 2-bbl with column-mounted automatic. Fast, fast, FAST!!! I couldn't tell you how many tickets I accumulated with that car; speeding, cutiing 360's, you name it! Did 110 on the Turnpike, raced with everyone who dared. One night I got my "comeuppance" as I tried to race a '73 Z-28 on the highway....the Camaro had a 4-speed, and God only knows what kind of motor. Needless to say, he blew me away without effort. My speedometer said 100 mph and he was STILL pulling away!!! JL, I thank you ENDLESSLY for what cars you have released....now, if I can only see a '73 (beep-beep) Road Runner!!!
Rick
 

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Flashback to June 1984. Paid $800 for my pride and joy. A 1970 Pontiac GTO. Blue with black top and interior, chrome reverse wheels with baby moons, 60's all around, 400/ auto, what a ride. What a wonderfull summer, until Dad caught wind of my accumulation of speeding tickets (2 in one day mind you). Even though I paid for it, I was in High school, and living under Dad's rule, so, my baby was "confiscated". Well, it needed paint anyway, so, I made a deal with a local bodyman to have him do the work over the winter, or over the next couple months until I got her back. On the eve of my 17th Birthday, around midnight, my mother got a call from the local PD stating they found my car in the woods abandoned. She explained I had been at home all day. The diligent Law Enforcement officer went back to the seen, in the rain, 2 hours later, and found a 14 year old hiding in the woods. Seems this enterpising individual decided to "borrow" my car to make the ride into Boston (60 miles away) to run away. Problem is, this fine enterpising individual couldn't keep her on the road (too much power), crashed over a stone wall and into some trees, ripping the bottom of the oil and trans pan off the car in the process. Trying to get un stuck, this fine enterpising individual blew the motor. Now, remember, a 70' goat was not worth much in '84. She was a total loss ( so was the face of the fine enterpising individual whom I caught up with in school a few days later). I wish I still had her.

The 20th aniversary is October 26, 2004........ I think I'll need a few cold ones to ease the memories.....
 

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In September of 1968, I ordered a 1969 Dodge Dart Swinger 340 and waited 13 weeks before it was delivered. In 1 day and with only 84 miles on it, I raced my friend's 68 Olds 442 and beat him easily on Sedgwick Avenue in the Bronx, (about a 1/8 mile race)
I since went on to beat other cars in the neighborhood on the same street like a 67 289 Sunbeam Tiger (rare car) 67 GTO, 68 GTO, 62 Belair with a 396 and others. Incidentally, one 68 GTO was owned by Vini Bergeman who owns Ultra Limos, and has been on TV. When he bought a 1970 440 Challenger RT, I beat that too but that one was very close, by a fender on that same street.
I still have that B7 medium blue metallic car with a black vinyl top which is still a matching number car with a blueprinted motor at original factory specs, cam and carb.
I stopped racing it in 1971. It has been a fun car to own.

You can see this car in Muscle Cars V - Release 6, the new Dart casting.

Michael Meister
 

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I won't drag this out so I'll just get to the point. I've owned this 1979 T/A for about 15 years and she has gone through many major changes, all for the better mind you. A couple of years ago on my way home from Albany NY I had a little problem... The pictures above show the final outcome of what started out as a minor fix. When I got off the NYS truway my T/A started to smoke so I quickly pulled it into a parking lot only to find I could hardly turn the wheel. Well it turned out my water pump bearings decided to give and it mad the WP shaft go crooked in turn totally loosening my PS belts, thus the hard steering. My baby bled anti-freeze all over the parking but was soon on her way home on a nice comfortable flatbed. The car was lowered and I figured I would just start her up to back her into the garage as this would take all of 5-10 seconds so no fear of overheating. Well I got her into the garage, all crooked mind you due to lack of steering capability, so I shut her down. My wife pulled in moments after the Flatbed driver left and before she parked I decided to readjust my car in the garage. I figured Why start it. I'll just give her a small push out of the garage then start her for the back-up. Well I pushed allright, albiet just a little too hard and she just kept going. From where she stopped to my garage door is only about 20 feet. By the time it hit me to jump in and hit the brakes it was just too late. She dipped over the egge and started down my small cliff. Luckily the Sumac tree there stopped her, of course after taking a couple of bounces off my driver fender, along with a couple of webbing cracks in the front nose paint. I think if I didn't slide on my gravel I would have stopped her but I just kept going right with her. Funny thing after that, had to call another tow guy to hoist her out. I didn't feel like too much of an @$$ as the driver, who holds a local car show, said he did the same thing many, many years ago. It didn't make me feel better about my car but I definitely stopped feeling like a total tool. She's all okay now sans the couple of very minor dings in the fender and the craks in the nose. It's time to go for a new paint job and a different route on the customizing. Maybe I'll call MTV and see if they'll "PIMP MY RIDE" :dude:. Hey T/A Tom, good thing I placed a few years back at the T/A Nat's otherwise I think this might have put a damper on my chances. :D
 

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Here's my story...short and sweet.

My mom has a red '80 Firebird sitting in the garage waiting to be restored. Original paint is almost perfect(1 inch of rust). My mom won't spend the money to fix her up, but she insists on keeping it b/c of sentimental value (her first car). My dad offered to spend the money to fix it up years ago, but she always refused. And on top of all that, I can't have it b/c, according to my dad, it wouldn't be fair to my two siblings. So she sits and waits.

I'll have to snap some pics of it later this weekend.
 

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My dads cars

My first car memorys: Dad bought a new blue 1964 Impala. What a cool car but I honestly don't remember alot about it. About a year later he bought my mom her wagon. My dad had his '64 Impala for a few years and it was stolen. He got the insurance check and bought a beautiful 1966 Caprice with the formal roof. it was cream with a black vynal top.
Picture this if you can.
The year: 1965
The place: Texas
The players: Mom and 4 kids
The place: local gas station
The condition: car overheating

My first memorys of this car, we were on vacation four screaming kids in the hot summer visiting the typical amusements. The a/c on high and kids stuck in traffic = no fun for mom. Smoke starts under hood and we crawl to the service bays of a gas station. First Mechanic opens hood and screams for second mechanic to come over, second mechanic calls gas attendant and soon we have a croud. Not for the overheat they could care less about that. Not for the mom with four kids. No its because dad seems to have found the first BIG BLOCK Impala wagon in Texas and all of the mechanics are amazed to see this 396 cu in in a wagon and not in a Corvette.
Later that year same car. Mom four kids and a trip home from the grocery store. Hot day in Texas (go figure) mom going a little fast. Sure enough mom finds a cop looking for speeders. Gets pulled over and the cop checks the kids the grocerys and then the car. Lets mom go no ticket.
Not to long after that. Mom, same car and those same four rug rats in a shopping center parking lot. Having just arrived and found a parking spot we were getting ready to exit the 396 wagon and felt a jolt in the rear quarter. Much to our surprise a Police car is smooshed into moms wagon. This time mom gets a ticket. Went to court and gets to pay the ticket.
In the mean time dad traded his 1966 Caprice for a 1969 Lincoln Mark III He said that car $50 and $100 him to death. It was always in the shop for repairs.
Years later: 1972 to be precise. Dad takes the wagon to work in Washington DC (did not want to mess up his Lincoln) and we hear on the news of a car fire where dad was headed to. Yep it was our dear ole 1965 396 Impala wagon. I remember it well, it was like losing a family member.
Dad had to go buy another wagon (kids still young) My dad drove his Lincoln Mark III to the dealer. I was at my freinds house.Then my freind came running up to me and told me my dad bought a Grand Torino Sport Red with white vynal top. This car also had the uneak formal roof. (how many Grand Torino Sports had the vynal top?) He also bought mom a Grand Torino Squire wagon. We had that wagon for ever. Dads Torino was the closest to a muscle car he ever owned. I loved this car for that reason. Then in the gas crunch he bought a 1974 Datsun 510 two door. We would stuff the whole family in that tiny lil burnt red Datsun. We had the Datsun and Wagon well into the '80's. The Grand Torino Sport got traded in on a land yatch 1 year old 1972 Cadillac Coupe Deville. He kept that until '78 when he bought a new Pontiac Bonneville Yea it had a 400 engine and a 400 trans. Somewhere between he bought Square Eldorodo. We had 4 cars in the driveway at that time and two drivers. The next gas crunch hit and back to the economy cars he went. We got a new 1979 Rabbit (soon to be my first car) Mom hated that car as it was to small. Dad bought a 1980 Diesel Rabbit. A few short years passed and Dad was back at the dealer. This time a Datsun 300z It was the "new" body style that would smack you in the head while closeing the door. He had that a few years and when he sold a company he built from the ground up he rewarded himself with a BMW 850I Yep 12 cylinders and all. He had that one a long time. Heck he even put over 120,000 on it. It was a wild car and I wish I told him I wanted it when he was done with it. After that he went back to his Caddys. Nothing special just Vouge tyers and fake roofs.
I guess thats why I have 4 cars and I'm the only driver.
 

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RobDog said:
When I was a puppy,I had a 63 Rambler station wagon.

When you put the car in 2nd low,the accellerator would stick like a cruise control from hell....it would keep increasing speed without any help from my foot.
While riding in my Cadillac
What to my surprise
A little Nash Rambler was following me
About one-third my size
The guy must have wanted to pass me out
As he kept on tooting his horn <beep beep>
I'll show him that a Cadillac
Is not a car to scorn

I pushed my foot down to the floor
To give the guy the shake
But the little Nash Rambler stayed right behind
He still had on his brake
He must have thought his car had more guts
As he kept on tooting his horn <beep beep>
I'll show him that a Cadillac
Is not a car to scorn

My car went in to passing gear
And we took off with gust
And soon we were doing ninety
Must have left him in the dust
When I peeked in the mirror of my car
I couldn't believe my eyes
The little Nash Rambler was right behind
You'd think that guy could fly

Now we're doing a hundred and ten
It certainly was a race
For a Rambler to pass a Caddy
Would be a big disgrace
The guy must have wanted to pass me out
As he kept on tooting his horn
I'll show him that a Cadillac
Is not a car to scorn

Now we're doing a hundred and twenty
As fast as I could go
The Rambler pulled alongside of me
As if we were going slow
The fellow rolled his window down
And yelled for me to hear
"Hey buddy how can I get this car
out...
of...
second
gear!"

So how did you get that Rambler out of second gear?
 

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pump the brakes fifty times,hope when the "brakes" lock up that you don't slide into anything,(once ended up 3 feet from a doctors office front window)then turn off the ignition,get out and drain your pants. :freak:
 

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Hi all,
Although I rarely get any DC's now, I still read and enjoy a lot of the posts here (that post about the dollar store dump had me choking on my tea--I laughed for two days and still chuckle now when I think of it) and thought I'd add to this one since I'm a full-on car nut.
Back in the early seventies I had a 55 Chevy--327/365, two fours, cross-ram intake, Engle roller cam, Muncie 4-speed, 456 Pontiac 12 bolt, full roll and pleat interior. It would pull the front wheels about 8 inches on a full-on launch.

I skipped school one day with a friend and went joy-riding. It was raining and the defroster was very weak so the windscreen would constantly fog up. I pulled in a service station for fuel and a window clean. The parking brake didn't hold so I put it in gear--so I thought...The car rolled down the slight incline it was on- straight into a brand spanking new black Mach 1 428CJ and flattened the drivers rear ¼ panel.

The owner turned out to be a Secret Service detective! Some how I talked him into letting me repair it at our school auto shop. I had his car for a month and went cruising in it regularly--until he started bitchin' it was taking too long. I constantly took it to the shop and would do several power-brake burnouts until the whole shop was smoke. I never took the car too far, but I was always lightin' em' up and didn't know the owner was checking the mileage!

When I finished the car and returned it he wanted to know how come I put fourteen hundred miles on it! Well I couldn't tell him that the miles were probably about a fourth of that with the rest coming from the smokey burn-outs!

The 55 was stolen right after that from the school parking lot. It was recovered and I got it running, but I failed to notice that the thieves had stripped the right front wheel lug nuts trying to steal the Cragars.

My first cruise with it back and the wheel came off, rolling under the right side of the car lifting it up and slamming it back down when the front wheel came in contact with the right rear wheel, crushing the right rocker and buckling the rear fender.

Disgusted, I sold it after that. I beat a Cougar GT (428) with that car twice and won the title to it. The loser ran so I couldn't collect but he was blackballed from the local racer scene after that. Yes, I own a Hemi-Ford, but I really miss that Bowtie.

Don't ask me about loosing my license for drag racing (ticket--100+ in a 35 mph zone), that's a story I'd like to forget...

Really a great post here and some wonderful stories--Thanks

Cheers..
 
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