List all the cars you drove....but there's a catch

the catch is BEFORE you got your license, with any funny anecdotal stories like getting caught, etc.

1st Car Grandmother's 67 Cutlass age 8 caught by the building doorman that story is here

2nd Mom's 65 Country Sedan


guessing 1968 I was 9 ??? not caught, no story

3rd has to have been a toss up between my grandfather's 70 Delta 88 Custom not caught, no story



my Dad's 66 Jag sedan (hated that POS) not caught, no story



Dad's 67 Austin Healey (Mark 3000??? I forget but it was a cool car) not caught, no story.



and/or the ultra-cool 72 Citroen SM not caught, no story.



But the most insane was Mom's 73 Impala wagon caught bigtime



I guess starting about 72 when I was 13 or 14 a bunch of friends and I would "take" our parent's cars out, and we would rotate (it was, afterall a fuel crisis) ... so it must have been 73/74 ok I was 14/15 In any event, they caught on.

Cadillacs, Grand Prix, our Chevy wagon 73 was 2nd worst year for mpg bested only by 74 I think that car got maybe 8 mpg

One night the Citroen was in the shop (or was it the POS Jag???) Regardless, Dad had a BMW 2002 as a loaner, and they were "going out"

They were waiting for me is what they were doing.

But like Dad said years later, we lost him immediately.

That BMW could not keep up with the 400 4bbl

hahaha

and I am still racing clamshells.

Not much happened as a result of getting caught that I remember.

 

citroen sm!!! HA the last time i saw one of them was in pompano beach....for sale. supposedly the citroen engine had been pulled and replaced with a pontiac engine. the steering wheel kinda weirded me out on those!

drove my moms 88 buick skyhawk
my dads explorer
my dads honda crx ....no stories....i was a good boy

 

None, I didnt drive before I got my permit. Just NO interest in cars.

 

I wrecked my Grandfathers 1960 Galaxie when I was 2 years old. He left me in the front seat while he was talking to his neighbor when I knocked it out of gear and rolled it down the drive way into a tree across the street.

 

A couple farm tractors but I was ,well helping on the farm.

In 77 Dad bout a van and we camperized it. I was tought to drive in that on the farm gravel roads at age 10 for the only reason, Mom did'nt drive and never did, my older sister with a licience rarely came out with us any more and if ever anything bad happened at least I could go for help etc. Allways drove the gravel roads with Dad shot gun ( Lac Du Bonet Manitoba) BUT the funny part to me is at age 11-12 I'd drive Mom and some of the elder ladys to various spots to pick berries, wild mushrooms and all the women would sit in the back and just me up front, the only male, Captin chair all the way fore ward barley seeing over the stearing wheel but I was'nt to drive till they were ready to go home. when I turned 13 I was allowed to drive the gravel roads by myself in the van....man that was cool, Graig 8 Track sterio, CB Radio, It was the life BUT I was never allowed to take my .22 Rifle with me..so I did'nt ever, why screw up a good thing.. The only rules placed upon me were to stay on the gravel roads on our side of the highway, never cross or go on the highway. I did'nt want to screw up a good thing so I never went near the highway.

Back in the city ( Winnipeg Manitoba) at age 15 I snuck the camper van out a few times when Dad was alwready living here and I knew Mom and my Sister were long gone for the nite..never got busted.

Age 15, my sister had a cool boy friend (still in Winnipeg) who would waist time with me and let me drive his inline 6 70 Camaro and or his parrents inline 6 73 Comet 2 door on the highway around our house...never got busted for that too.

Now at age 15 and just having moved to the island I bout my 67 Cougar for $550. There was a police officer who lived on our street a few houses down. One day ( school lunch hour) just dying to drive my car ( with no plates)I drove it around the block and guess who came home for lunch! I was on my way back down our street and he followed me rite into the drive way. He chewed my @ss off but never said any thing to my parrents...I was sh***** bricks very time my Mom or Dad chatted with him

 

I drove a '61 Chevy Apache Stepside pickup on the farm since I was 12 but never took it out on the road. We also had a '47 Ford sedan in the barn that we resurrected and drove it around on the farm as well. We also had a '48 1 1/2 ton Ford flatbed truck with a non synchro 4-speed and 2-speed rear that I drove around on the farm. We also had Oliver and IH Farmall (and 1 Avery) tractor(s) and I was driving the tractors on the farm when I was 8 and on the road when I was 12.

The only car that I sneaked out on the road for a joyride was my mom's '65 Chevy BelAir and I was 14. I didn't get caught, but I almost hit a utility pole and that scared me so much that I never tried that again.

Since I grew up in a rural community, virtually all of us boys knew how to drive by the time we were 14 or 15. All of us in our Drivers Education class in high school were there strictly for the insurance discount except for one poor girl that was in class to really learn how to drive. Our "training" classes were just joyrides during the school day for the rest of us.

 

First car i remember driving was my Mom's 72 Pontiac Catalina. We lived in a rural area and she would let me drive the last mile to the house when we were on our way home...sitting on her lap of course.

Now for the fun. My Dad had an 81 Ford full size ranger, manual shift. I would sit in it and pretend i was driving. One day i knocked it into nuetral and had figured out how to release the park brake.....down the hill i went. Only very slight damage to the truck. My mom came outside and wondered why my dad had parked in the woods, then she saw my head pop up. The truck had wedged itself between a small tree and a large tree. The speed at which i was traveling, made the 'wider than body' bumpers push the little tree out and allow the tires and mirror to squeeze by. They had to cut the little tree down to get the truck out without more damage.. oops.

Another time in the pontiac, i must have been about 4, knocked it out of gear, and ran over my tricycle and grandmothers cast iron lawn furniture. Neither were ever the same, nor was the wind scoop on the bottom of the Pontiac.

later i was about 5 or 6, she had downsized to an 84 Merc Topaz. Put into neutral and it started off the driveway toward my grandfathers 78 LTD coupe. In a childs panic, i ran around in front of the car and stopped it and yelled for help. To this day i cant believe at 6, i stopped a rolling car and me barefooted in grass! I guess it wasnt my time yet...

after that it was just lap driving on the last mile home until i could reach the pedals and then i got to really drive. once i was 12 or 13, i constantly found a reason to move my grandparents lincolns or 92 caravan around in the yard.

 

No wonder you switched to GM cars!

 

I had two cars before I got my license:

A 1960 Austin Mini-Minor 2-door, that I got for $10, in 1964. It ran, no brakes, rusted out, in 4 years!

Then I got a 1956 Porsche 356B for $25. Yeah! TWENTY-FIVE dollars, in 1965, also rusted out and a blown motor.

I got my license in 1966, and sold both of them for $500. Joined the Army in 1968, and bought a nice 1963 Olds Starfire.

 

I'm so ashamed. I never even thought of it. What a geek eh!

 

I bought my first car when I was 12 for a whopping ten bucks - and drove it home myself! I had owned 20 cars and trucks before I turned 16, and all but one ran/drove. Learned how to drive in a 1969 Datsun 1300 pickup, and a 1954 Willys CJ-3B - both at age 12.

First car I owned/drove was a 1952 Plymouth four-door, as was the second car I owned. The car I owned the day I got my license was a mint 1966 VW Type III fastback

 

Drove plenty of tractors before I got my license.

First rig was a 1964 Econoline pick-up I bought at a school auction with a family friend when I was 13. Paid $25 for it. He sold it a few months later for $100.00 and split the money with me. I drove it around the field out at his place a few times. That was my first experience with a three on the tree.

My best friend growing up used to get to steer the truck when we rode with his dad. I remember when I got to do it once. I was probly 9.

Only time I went out on the road before I had my license was when I was 15 and had a learners permit. Our cousins were in town. My dad let me take the Plymouth and a car load of relatives into town because my older cousin (who was only 17, and not 21) was in the car with me. Was an awesome experience for a 15 year old to be out on the road without a parent in the car, and to have their permission to-boot.

 

I've been a bad bad boy

This is the first time I got away with "IT" ... "IT" being the operative word

I was 15 in summer camp near the Ohio - PA boarder close to a town called Albion PA. This was kind of a religious camp. Every year we had priests from all over the East Coast and Midwest come to help and chill out, I guess being a priest is hard work and they too need a vacation.

There was this one priest, Father Serge ... every year he would come to the camp in a brand new big American boat .. it would always be Black outside with burgundy interior ... The year that I got away with "IT" he had a brand new shinny chrome adored 1968 Mercury Grand Marquis.

He used to park it behind the barn and he would always leave the keys under the front floor mat. Knowing this ... I would take the car and drive it around the back roads of the camp ... I was too young to have a drivers license, but I figured that the priest wouldn't mind if I got some practice time with his brand new Mercury.

I would take the car for joy rides ...I'm a City Boy and even though I always loved cars .. there was no where for me to practice living in New York City. So I would look forward to summer camp and driving what ever I could get my hands on.

After about two weeks of taking (stealing) the priests car and practicing driving on dirt roads, I mastered (whats now called DRIFTING) slipping and sliding on those roads ... ok truth be told ... I thought I mastered it.

This one particular day ... the day before the priest was scheduled to leave and go back home. I was feeling my teenage oats and decided to push the envelope of my abilities.

There I was going down this dirt road at a blazing 70MPH ... I was the man ... I was so cool ... yeah ... me in this big huge shiny black sedan. looking all gangster ... I was pimping ... ok you get the picture.

Well me, the cool guy ... didn't figure on slowing down for this hairpin turn ... I mean I had made that turn at 30MPH just the day before .. so why shouldn't I be able to do it at 70MPH ... I tuned the steering wheel into the turn and then out of the turn so that rear of the car would slide out ... BUT... the car never did go into a slide ... I just went head on into the ditch on the side of the road ... wow ... was that ever so cool.

I had the windows down so I had to wait for the dust to literally settle before I could get out ... oh and I had to get out of the passenger side ... due to the fact that car was resting in the ditch on the drivers side ... well when i got out of the car i was pissed ... how was I gona get this car out of the ditch and back to the camp before they realized that it was missing

... just as fate would have it ... out of what seemed to be thin air, came this farmer on his tractor ...Shaking his head the whole time he hooked up a chain to the undercarriage and pulled the car out of the ditch ... that's when I realized that I had just about totaled this poor brand new Merc.

Oh man were they gona be pissed at me ... it was pretty late in the afternoon when I got back onto the camp grounds ... and no one was around ... ever so quietly I rolled up to the back of the barn ... parked the poor banged and beat up Merc ... stuck the key under the floor mat and snuck into the main cafeteria of the camp ... no one even knew that I was gone ...

To this day I have denied ever knowing what happened to the priests car ... so for that, I'm going to hell ... well that and many more things that I've done with cars ... but that indecent alone guaranteed me a first class ticket ... so we'll see when I'm standing at the Pearly Gates if I really did get away with "IT"


johnk

 

now that was funny - reminds me of the story when my Dad was a Cadillac dealer and I had a service customer's car for the weekend - Mom said "are you going out tonight? (it was Friday) don't take her car but that's another story for another time... I had my license by then shoulda knowed better - or the Thanksgiving afternoon I had to run a quick errand and wound up in a creek teetering

 

Wish I could tell you what I'm driving here.. it's 1980 in this pic and it's obviously some late-model GM.



I was born in Daytona Beach, and we lived there until I was 5 or so. When I was a wee bit bigger than in the picture, my dad would drive me onto the beach, put me in his lap, and let me go nuts steering the car. My memories don't go back that far, but he says that after awhile I would always point us right at the ocean... he'd speed up and then stop right at the last second, and I'd just laaaaaaaugh.



First wagon I ever drove was my dad's Country Squire. When he'd pick me up to stay with him on weekends, he'd always let me steer on this short curvy stretch leaving my mom's neighborhood... from the passenger seat.

My mom bought a 1989 Hyundai Excel brand new, and I learned to drive stick just by watching her. She let me move it the 50-some yards between the street and the parking spot behind the house many many times.

I don't remember the circumstances, but one day when I was 14 or so found me home alone with the car... wherever she was I wasn't worried about her suddenly coming home. So I worked up the nerve to take the Excel around the block a couple times. What a thrill to finally get to 2nd gear!!

My best friend from 6th grade through high school (let us call him..."Jim") was a year older than me, and he owned two different cars before I ever got my license, and I drove both many times. A Ford Tempo, and a 1983 Dodge Charger... both stick. I'd sneak out of my house at midnight and he'd pick me up at the McDonald's around the corner and he'd let me drive all night. Often that's all we did. 2am on a completely empty expressway, Jim'd often be passed out on the passenger seat by then, and I'd be in heaven behind the wheel.

It was in the Charger that I got caught... twice... with exponentially increasing severity. First time was in the middle of the day during summer vacation. Jim and I were heading towards my place, I'm waiting at a red light where an expressway off-ramp lets onto the street, when what should appear at the top of the ramp by my stepfather's big old Ford pickup.


It was 1995... coulda seen ol' Agnes here from a mile away.

I'm seconds from getting the green and driving right across his view, and I just full-on panic. All I know is that I am NOT driving straight ahead, so at the moment the light turns green, I gun it across the right lane and try to turn onto a side street... the car in the right lane is understandably pissed off and lays on his horn... stepdad looks over towards the noise, and I'm screwed.

I drive one block and then pull over to hyperventilate (I am not, nor have I ever been, brave). I decide I have to go straight home and face the music, so Jim drives me to within a block of my house (Jim was a bit of a problem kid, never had a problem telling off adults, but my stepfather had that Leroy Jethro Gibbs quality of striking fear into you with just a look and a few words).

"Are you...gonna tell Mom?"

"No. (dramatic pause) YOU are." (dun-dun-dunnnnn!)

And I did. And I don't remember what happened, but it wasn't all that bad. I still have both my hands. I certainly didn't stop driving around in the middle of the night. Maybe a year later I was driving the Charger and Jim says he wants to stop by the boarding house he used to stay at to check if he had any mail. The boarding house he USED TO stay at. To check mail at 3am. What I lacked in bravery, I made up for in naiveté. So we go... he runs inside, and comes back out a few minutes later and he very casually says "okay, let's go".

Within five minutes a police car starts following us, closely. I am, of course, terrified.. and eventually I screw up by turning without signaling and the lights come on. Next thing I know I'm in handcuffs in the back of a patrol car, heading towards the police station. I soon find out I had unwittingly helped Jim rob the place.

Calls to my house got no answer, eventually the police department that had arrested us had to call the police in my town and have officers go to my house and ring the doorbell before my mom knew to come get me. I don't know if it's because I looked like such a gutless little schmuck, or if Jim vouched for my (relative) innocence, but all I got in trouble for was driving without a license and breaking curfew...both of which would be dropped on the condition I got my license before I turned 18, which I happily did.

Boy I sure did get off easy a lot. Something about me seemed to radiate innocence, and I almost never got in as much trouble as I should have... I can think of three other times when some misunderstanding has me talking to a cop who ends up saying something like... "some old lady called and says you boys looked like you were about to (terrible thing), but I can see you're just minding your own business. Have a good day now."

If I'd had any guts I coulda been a regular grifter.

Other cars I drove before I was licensed but am too tired to integrate into a narrative include:

'85 Dodge Caravan
90s Dodge Shadow
80s Chevette
'94 Buick LeSabre