I suppose today’s youth don’t even know what a “station wagon” is nor the embarassment associated with it. :roll:
My high school in the 50’s was mostly a guys school. In addition, street rods were the thing. In our parking lots, in and around the school, were some of the best street metal and custom rods anywhere on the East Coast.
Thanks to my Aunt, she let me use her car for my first week during my freshman year. My street rod wasn’t finished.
So, I tried to be as smooth and cool as I could be, putt-putt-putt, parking next to a 34 Chevy chop’d and channel with side pipes, and a gold Stude Golden Hawk, with this baby …
Gads… that first week was a grind to get through! :faint:
My 1971 Datsun B-210 station wagon was green. No shame for me. That car spelled freedom, dates and a way to get to work.
Are you sure you never did any street racing…back in the day?
Ahhh… MOPAR 413, MOPAR smoothed intake for two offset AFB’s quads, progressive linkage, beefed Hydro and other goodies.
In the picture of the engine, it looks like the builder slapped air conditioning to the right-top of the 413 mil. Man is that class or what! Puts a new meaning to the phase …” way cool man, way cool!”
The side view of a silver Vet looks like a 63. I’m not a Vet man, but the 63 Vet was the best of the Vet series, in my opinion. That rear two window with the post is classic American street muscle from Detroit. We use to call that design “bat wing trunks”. The Rivera had something similar called a boattail. I miss those days, big time.
I do remember, there was a service road, now called I-291 that serves I-90 (MASS PIKE), that I use to run, among others, challenging various car clubs in the area.
We didn’t drag for pinks – that was out of the question, but for bragging rights. We couldn’t run for pinks anyway because most the rods and builds weren’t registered – for a while there neither was mine. So, at night, off came the license plate from dad’s wagon and down to the “strip” I’d go. There was a legal strip called Connecticut Drag Way in Colchester, CT., but that was some drive away.
The Massachusetts State Police soon caught on and posted the strip with a “bear”, as we called him. First time was a warning, second time, a hook.
One night there was “State-ee” stalled near the on ramp to the Mass Pike (I-90), after he got a call. About ten of us pulled up near and behind him, no mufflers, straight pipes, and asked if we could help. Reluctantly, he popped the hood and within two minutes a couple of wrench-heads had him going again. A tweak here and a tweak there, adjusted the air-fuel mix and she ran like new.
The Trooper looked over at the two and asked… “how old are you kids?”, as the two got back behind the wheel of their rods. He never got his answer once repeated calls came over his radio – off he went. Good thing too, both kids were only 14 and15 respectively. Like I said, I miss those days. Good people to.
And some great cars, makes my first car seem like a whimp of a car… 2009 Nissan Versa. Great on gas that’s about it!
Actually reading these posts got me looking back from the time I turned 16 to the time u bought the Versa (2011) makes me wonder why I never bought a car sooner. Probably had to do with insurance rates and the fact I was too busy focusing on school and ball to be able to take a job to pay for a car.
What’s up boys and gals!
I’m back baby!
Great to see Dino and Wales back, yes!
It’s Hammer time!
The difference is, your B210 stations wagon was your’s. Mine was my mom’s. :oops:
Friend: Hey, did you get a new car?
Me: No, it’s my mom’s. :oops: :oops: :oops:
Good to hear from ya man
Hammer I shot ya a PM
Hammer…geeezz…they are coming out of the woodwork around here. What have you been up too? Help anybody cross the street recently?
Having attended Penn State, I have been following the recent developments with the Sandusky sex assaults and the crippling NCAA sanctions. What an apt reminder that what looks wonderful on the surface sometimes turns out to be a stinking rotten putrid mess underneath.
It stirred up recollections of my time there. One of my favorite experiences was attending a Doobie Brothers concert in the old West Gymnasium. They had just released, “Living on the Fault Line”.
This record was a marked departure from their previous albums. It was influenced greatly by Michael McDonald, vocalist and keyboardist. Even so, the concert was great. And yes, there is a good reason they called themselves the Doobies. The album didn’t have one hit on it but at the end, seemingly as an afterthought, I found a gem. Up until hearing this little tune, I had been mainly a flatpick aficionado. When I heard Patrick Simmons’ rendition of “Larry the Logger Two Step” I was hooked on fingerpicking.
Oh yeah - it was 1977 :roll:
I’m feelin real good today!!!
I gave a couple of mill (No kidding could end up with a B in from of it) worth of business to some great guys who are the tip-o-the-spear for me (I do major disaster, network restoral for a wireless telecommunication carrier)…ya know “talkin bout” how it ought to be and walkin the walk are entirely different and lives do change…
ol jd is doing some really cool cutting edge stuff in his real life…8)
Interesting stuff JD
Sounds like you are really thinking outside the box. That’s where some of the great innovative stuff is happening. Like this:
Now if we could just get pitchers to think this way…
I was able to get my son, wife and several others tickets to see these here folks in Jacksonville at the Fla. Theater…Without, Emmylou Bonnie…or Jesse or our long gone but never forgotten Lowell George…it’s been a crazy week…I was in Birmingham while the show was going on and I’ve missed them by a day every city I’ve that been to this week (Atlanta tomorrow Jacksonville Tuesday, Mobile Monday)…I’ve never gotten to see em live either…They said it was a terrific show…see them if you can… 8)
It’ll make peanut butter come out your speakers…
Spent a beautiful day on the golf course with my son and the best man for my wedding, soon to be 29 years ago.
I remember on our 25th anniversary I told the wife that I thought we ought to be proud of our accomplishment. We ought to go out and get certificates made and framed and buy each other gold watches. Then go our separate ways.
“Honey, it was just a joke.”. Her response made me think of the ending to the Flintsones when Fred gets locked out of the house.
So this year… I’m going to tell her how much I appreciate her and maybe play this Mark Knopfler/Emmy Lou Harris song for her.
Now I’m talkin and rockin.
That Flintstone’s piece reminds me of a trip my better-half made with me
for an end of season’s game.
At the time, my club and its league was on a shoestring budget. But nevertheless a college stadium had been arranged long in advance, and regardless of either club’s miserable record the game went on. There were all kinds of omens for that day – overcast skies and a labor dispute between municipal employees and this city which gave everyone no end of problems.
In any event, the last game of the season went on. In the 8 inning it started to pour, and pour, and pour. The crew officiating this game had issues with both clubs during the season and calling this game just wasn’t in the cards. We were going to get soaked, regardless.
From a gate take of about 1,500 we saw about 50 or so still in the stands. That 50 or so included wives and significant others. We sent for them to sit in the dugout with us and there was no objection from the crew.
Every once and a while, I and others with the club, would sheepishly glance over at our wives trying to get a glimpse of the “situation.” Tain’t good megee …. seemed to fit that.
After the game and all the goodbyes and good luck speeches, I went to our designated parking lot – no wife, no ride. I called for a taxi and arrived back at our motel and found the bathroom door shut, light on inside.
I stood outside that bathroom, face to the door, apologizing for the miserable day, asking whatever it was that I could do to make it up to her, and saying that I didn’t take her being with me for granted … not noticing her at the game and the miserable conditions she sat through. I even suggested a nice upscale restruant on the other side of town that I could make reservations for. I finally said that I never take her for granted, what can I do to make up for this.
I then hear from our motel room … “ who are you talking to in the bathroom?”
My wife had been sitting in an overstuffed chair watching TV, all this time. As it turned out, I walked right past her …. right to the bathroom door and started pleading my case. Closed bathroom doors, in my generation anyway, are a sure sign … there’s no joy in Mudvile.
As I glanced over with a …” oh @!#%! look on my face, I noticed the sun came out, through our motel window. “ Oh look, “ I said – “it’s stopped raining and it looks like its warming up.” Upon which my bride responded with… “ Nope, I don’t think so…”
LMAO too funny Coach