In a message dated 6/30/00 10:00:07 PM SA Western Standard Time,
spritenut@Exit109.com writes:
<< how many of you jumped on the first
> LBC you looked at? C'mon, 'fess up!! >>
Frank,
My first two LBCs were first-sighters...and there were others in the
passing parade..... In 1965, when I was a 140 pound high school junior,
hitch-hiking from Lakewood to Freehold to catch a bus back home to Avon, I
saw a pre-war Harley that looked so heavy I just knew if it ever fell over
it would crush me like road pizza. Sitting there in the front yard of an old
Mom and Pop junkyard on hiway 9 in Southard. I left a $10 deposit, and came
back a few days later, paid off the hundred and fifteen dollars I still owed
, got it started and drove it home, no license plate, no motorcycle license,
no helmet, in shorts and flip flops and a tee shirt, with a flashlight
strapped to the fork, and a big old car battery in a wooden box behind me
taking back roads by feel, all the way into Farmingdale, out Belmar Blvd, and
into Avon, crossing the bridge that my Grandfather tended in his retirement,
wondering what the chances were he would see me and die from a heart
attack.... I parked it in the back lot of Vince Sabias 2 pump Esso station
on Main St where I pumped gas after school in return for using the lift at
night to work on my 48 Chevy that I had owned since I was 12 and had kept
hidden from my parents behind the station for three years (another case of
LOFS) and drove around town in the wee hours after the patrolman had gone to
sleep in his cruiser behind See's Candy.... All I could do with the Harley
was be cool and show it off since it was loud enough to wake the dead, and
anyone who recalls Avon NJ in the 60s, envisions a town filled with
busybodies who called the cops when they heard rain hit the sidewalk thinking
it might be spit from an airplane.
One afternoon, a big beer gutted garage-door sized hulk of a guy
drives up in a cream topped dark red Mini with a pair of huge driving lights
in the grille. I had only seen Minis in R&T C&D (and once at the
circus.....) It was beyond love at first sight - it was a primal scream of
pure envy.... I rode the bike one more time, and all I could think of was
that Mini.....
Actually, he was pretty hot for the Harley, and a few days later,
he came by again, and the deal was made - I gave him the bike and about
$200, and got a store full of parts and a shop manual and some special tools,
and a thirty second checkout on the carbs..... My mom, who had known all
along about the bike was thrilled that I never made it into Hells Angels, and
she thought the Mini was cute, as did a bunch of girls in school. I was
LBC hooked from that day on. Went so far as to get a job at Shore Motors, and
eventually became the BMC/BL service writer. I bought another Mini, a
bright red pre hydrolastic 850 in really nice shape for $49 at at Reedman in
Langhorne, PA (Remember the ad's in the Press: $1999 and under $999 and
under $99 and under..Found it at the tail end of the $39/$29/$19 drag 'em
home specials and just knew I had to have it. ) Had to borrow (beg) $12
from my dad to pay for the license . I sold my near perfect 48 Chevy to a
teacher who probably still has it.
My next love/buy at first sight was a 58 MGA which I bought from a
Monmouth College coed in 67. I was stunned by her graceful lines, and oh
yeah, by the car too,,, Bought it for a then staggering $500. Drove it home
to show it off. First thing my dad asks is, "Where are the bumpers, son, and
the grille?" Gee, she had a stunning pair of bumpers when I first looked at
her. Didn;t notice no grille... just a girlle and I KNOW I couldn;t have
missed THOSE bumpers - must have been something in my eye....
In 79, a 1600cc Elva Courier in New Orleans hit me like a ton of
bricks. I comitted to buy it before I realized that I really couldn't put
it on the street. I did anyway. I snookered the inspection by running an MGB
thru with a ton of glass-wax on the windscreen.... slid it right off, and I
hightailed it to another station for the second inspection du jour for the
B....
I remember sweating bullets when the Sheriff up in Hammond stopped me
one night and began checking numbers, telling me I wasn't allowed to drive no
gocart on the highway... "But it has an inspection sticker and registration
and insurance, sir..." (remembering to this day that I avoided using the word
"legal...." ) If it weren't for a fortuitous head-on collision or some other
mess up the road, I'd still be in jail, because his radio squawked, and he
left in a cloud of dust.....
I've since bought at least 50 more cars just because they screamed
"Buy Me!"
and a hundred or more that simply whispered "You want me, if only for a few
weeks...." Witness the 67B that has become a potato planter in the garden,
a 78 Midget with gimpy oil pressure, then recall how close I came to
stroking you a check for the Spridget racer.....only dear old mom's threat to
sexually reassign me should I park another project on the old homestead kept
me from buying it. That and having reached the 13 car limit of the
false-fronted stockade fence in the back yard, and the 14 car limit at my
shop.. The embarassment of singing soprano in the church choir could
eventually be overcome..... Mark Childers
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