Wonderful Car

  

   There are so many stories from the past! One of the earliest I can recall happened during the first winter I spent here. There was a nor’easter blowing that day in January, and when I climbed into my 1952 Plymouth Plaza to go do some errands, I soon realized I was one of a very few cars on the road. Granted, in those days at that time of year, there weren’t many people on the roads when the weather was perfect, but that day the storm kept most people inside. The Plazamobile was a tank, though, and plowed through the weather like a hot knife through butter.

   A moment, dear reader to pay homage to one of the best autos I have ever owned. The year was 1968, so she was already 16 years old when I got her, but they built pretty good cars in the early 50s, and except for the rust, which was epidemic here because of the salt, the Plymouth Plaza was my friend, my trusty steed and occasionally, when I’d gotten just too drunk to drive, my bed. As for the rust, my friends and I spent one inebriated afternoon applying duct tape to the rust holes and spray painting the fenders blue. Unfortunately we didn’t have enough paint to do the whole car, so somebody had the bright idea to paint waves along the sides so she looked like she was floating. We all thought it was great and we were certain the guy at the inspection station would agree and give me a sticker. He did. Her right headlight was imprinted upon the face of the Pilgrim Club due to some creative driving on my part, and somewhere under many subsequent layers of paint, that imprint lives on. I like knowing it’s there.

   To my neighbor’s endless chagrin, the Plaza started up obligingly in any weather, rain, snow, whatever, so I could get out and about when no one else could. Wonderful car! However, even cars have life spans, and she was no different. She finally gave up, so a group of friends helped me push her to the dump. These days we call it “The Transfer Station”, and it’s a very different place, but in 1969, it was a deep pit. We pushed the car over the edge of the pit, and she landed at the bottom on her roof. I wept at the sight of her four wheels in the air. I know, I know, it wasn’t environmentally friendly and I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing these days, even if I could, but back then lots of people took their old wrecks to the dump and pushed them over the edge. I have no idea if she’s still down there. The pit is now a hill. Maybe someday an archeologist will excavate that hill and who knows what wonders will be found?  All I know when I bought the Plymouth Plaza it was the best $50 I ever spent.

   So, there I was on a snowy, blowy morning in January, 1968, making my way down Commercial Street. Just past the library, (the old one on Freeman Street) was Dr. Heibert’s office and as I passed I noticed a very pregnant young woman knocking on the office door. On I went, to the post office, the A&P and Conwell Lumber, all of which took about two hours, and caused me to pass Dr. Heibert’s office again as I went home. Remembering the woman, I glanced over at the door, and at that moment it opened and she came walking out, baby in her arms. Wow. I couldn’t believe it. But there they were, right before my eyes. All I could think of to do was slam on the brakes, open the door and say,

   “Can I give you a lift?”

   She climbed in and I drove her and her new son home in the Plazamobile. I’ll say it again. Wonderful car!