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My 1935 Commander In my fevered mind that car was
the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. It was a huge, black,
four door Commander with a shiny deep black lacquer paint job and
a straight eight engine. Of course I bought it on the spot, and rode home
in the passenger seat with my dad driving it and telling me what a piece
of crap it was. Until I got my learners permit all I could do was drive
it up and down the driveway. To extend my driving thrill a few feet more
I’d even drive it onto the backyard grass. After getting my learners
permit I recruited my buddy Ray, because he already had a drivers
license, but no car. This allowed me to drive all over town with as many
of my friends and hangers on as we could pack into that old car. Over the years my life changed,
and after moving out on my own a collector car wasn’t feasible.
There wasn’t really a place to keep it when I was living on a hippie
commune, much less the money for upkeep. So my dad sold it for $600 and
gave me the original $300 I’d paid for it, keeping the rest as payment
for six years of storage in his garage. Since then I’ve had the occasion to own four more Studebakers, a '62 GT Hawk, a '55 President, a '54 Conestoga Wagon, and a '50 Starlight Coupe. They’re all gone now and all I have is a Chrysler PT Cruiser that I don’t really drive. Yet every time I go to one of these old car meets, that lust for another old car stirs again. Then I look in Hemmings, and I see the prices they’re asking for a Studebaker I probably won’t really even drive because of my blindness, and the lust turns to dust. Maybe I’ll just drive the
PT Cruiser around in my driveway and pretend it’s a big old 1935
Studebaker. |
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