That Piece of Crap Foreign Car
In nineteen hundred and sixty eight, I bought my first car. It was an eight year old Jaguar touring sedan, or as they affectionately called it at the Chevy dealer in Burlington, North Carolina, “That piece of crap foreign car out back.” I didn’t consider it a “piece of crap”, but that nickname is what convinced me to get the car. Actually, it’s that nickname that made the Chevy dealer sell it so cheap.
If you’d rather me tell you this story, here’s the youtube link:
I considered the car to be classy and exotic. Before long, it became a classy and exotic lawn ornament. When it stopped running, I bought a nineteen sixty-one Thunderbird, then a Sunbeam Tiger, then a Lotus Europa, then I got married. After that I drove Buicks, and Fords, and Chryslers, and of course, a Chevy Vega.
Out of all of these cars, the most fun, hands down, was the Sunbeam. The Tiger was about the size of an MGB, but it had a Ford V8 drive train. Carroll Shelby designed how to shoehorn this engine into the little car, and it was very, very fast. But it also maintained those things that made it a true British sports car. By that I mean that instead of luxuries, it offered, let’s call them, eccentricities.
Don’t get me wrong. The car had the basics. It even had a heater, although it was basically irrelevant. You see, it also had a ragtop, and they hadn’t quite figured out how to seal the top to the windshield. That meant that whatever weather I witnessed outside of the car, I experienced inside the car. I have fond memories of snow drifting down between me and the steering wheel.
Even though I considered this one of the car’s many charms, most of my dates didn’t agree. Even the young ladies who loved the car in the summer, lost all affection for it in the winter. There was one girl who only dated me in the summer. Sadly, I didn’t put this together until while I was writing this piece.
Even considering the laughter and pointing that accompanies arriving places with a wet lap, I still think the car’s most distracting eccentricity was that every now and then, the engine would just stop. It didn’t bother me much because I knew what it was. The automobile had an electric fuel pump and on occation its points would stick. In the realm of automotive catastrophes, this failure wouldn’t even make the top one hundred because it was so easy to fix. All I had to do was wait a little while for them to cool then smack the pump with a hard object. Back to the races.
Apparently, the Sunbeam people anticipated this problem. Of course, instead of installing a fuel pump that didn’t stop, they mounted it conveniently. They put it under a trap door behind the passenger seat. I could actually fix the pump without leaving the car. I didn’t even have to leave my seat. Just reach back.
Like I said, it didn’t bother me much, but I can’t say the same for my dates. But to be fair, we need to look at it from their point of view. Imagine that you’re a very attractive young lady on your first date with this guy. I know this is a stretch for some of you but just play along. You’re in his sports car blasting around back country roads in piedmont North Carolina. The only light is from the stars above, the moon, the dash, and the headlights illuminating the asphalt rolling under your tires.
You can feel the wind in your hair and the throb of the V8 in your heart. You’re having a good night. Then suddenly, silence. Your date, a guy that looks more scraggy than handsome, lets the car drift to the side of the road. Once the car stops, he turns to you and starts talking as if you were in the middle of an Italian restaurant instead of in the middle of no stinking where North Carolina.
This conversation could last anywhere from two minutes to two hours depending on how ol’ Scraggy thinks he’s doing, At some point, he reaches up and turns on the car. He doesn’t try to start it. There’s no sound of the starter. He just turns it on. Then this…person…reaches under his seat and pulls out a huge, shiny crescent wrench. You can bet that this guy who you barely found mildly interesting before has your full attention now. When the hand gripping the wrench disappears behind you, your breath stops while you wait on whatever happens next. After what feels like a lifetime, you hear clunk then tika, tika, tika, tika, tik, tik. Scraggly straightens up, starts the car, and you’re off.
I went through this procedure several times, and I never had any woman actually jump out of the car and run screaming into the night. But I know a lot considered it. I could see the debate in their eyes. Should I stay and take my chances with Scraggy or chance the woods with the rapists, killers, lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my?
Like I said, fond memories. The Lotus was fun, but I could actually drive it in short sleeves in the winter. I never had to live through trying to explain a wet lap. And it never, ever left me stranded on the side of the road. Like I said, fun but it didn’t have the Sunbeam’s personality.
The memories of that Sunbeam caused me to buy a second Tiger years later. It had its own personality, with its own eccentricities, and its own reasons for leaving me on the side of the road. But that is another story for another time.
That’s it for now. Thanks for reading all the way to the end. Until next time, bye for now.