I worked at Ernie's Chevron in the mid 70's. I remember putting the credit card in a little roller press to get an impression then getting it signed and tossing the carbon in the trash. No problem back then since nobody hacked the #'s from the trash like they could now.
All these stories from well known cities and So Cal... Back in the growing up days in Vermont, there was nothing notable about the state. Nothing happened, nothing changed. If you took all the cars off the streets in the 70's and put horses and buggies in the scene, a photograph could have been passed off as having been taken 100 years previous. Things I remember include the farmer at the end of our road still using draft horses to plow his field. Everybody hunted and you were likely to see guns in the back seats of student cars in high school. Old fashioned state fairs, independent people that were the salt of the earth and took responsibility for themselves. Almost all old cars were imported from other states that weren't in the rust belt. When working on my car, hard-to-find parts were discovered through Hemmings and using an SSAE to get return comments, pricing and availability. I remember lots of dirt roads. You could take walks/hikes into the woods and see remnants of old logging operations with an old truck chassis with axles sitting on the rim bottoms cause the wood spokes rotted away. Any restaurant that would be a memory was a one-off as there were very few chains. I remember when the first McDonalds was built. Sears & Roebucks memories are of sitting on the big riding mowers and examining the toy isle. You could drive down main street in Burlington and whoop and holler at the girls on the sidewalk. Today it is a car-free zone for walkers only.
Barrel shaped head rests, rear end jacked up with extended shackles with a pair of scavenger pipes adding the tunes..
Hello, When my mom was still around, she would not let me forget an incident at our old Westside Craftsman house. It was around 1952 and I was 8 years old. I had been watching the new, super small screen TV with my brother, reading my dad’s newspapers, and looking at Life/Look Magazines. I was getting the picture that Santa Claus would only come down the chimney on Christmas Eve. Our old Craftsman house did not have a chimney, but we still had a nice Christmas Tree each year. My dad’s huge, black, 1949 Buick Roadmaster was still parked out in front on the street. But, no chimney or fireplace. The way she has always told the story was that I became so curious as to how Santa Claus was going to deliver our (my) presents to our tree. Since we did not have a chimney, that he usually slides down, it was a dilemma. She said that I was walking around in a daze trying to figure it out. Of course, our neighbors had a chimney and they jokingly said that “…houses without chimneys would be bypassed by you know who…” Ok, that was not funny, but a serious problem. As it got closer to Christmas, she was worried that I could not concentrate on school, take care of our dog, or even clean up our room/toys area, etc. She said I was a little tiny machine walking around in a fog. Despite the assurances from my parents, I still had doubts. My brother did not help out as he kept saying that he was going to get presents and that I was a bad kid who was going to be left out. How cruel…older brothers, sheesh. Jnaki On Christmas Eve, I went to sleep early, still puzzled as to what was going to happen. Around 3 A.M. my mom said she felt a cold breeze blowing through the house and went to investigate. Upon arriving in the living room where the Christmas Tree was located, she saw that the front door was wide open and was propped open by some small kid curled up, sleeping soundly. She closed the front door and got my dad to carry me back to my own bed, smirking, of course. To this day, I have no idea how I got in front of that door. Everyone was soundly sleeping... ! I slept late and when my brother poked me awake the next morning, I was disheartened to find myself in bed. Wasn’t I in the living room waiting for Santa Claus to come in the front door? Since we did not have a chimney, I had figured out that this was the only way he was going to come into our house on Christmas Eve with the presents. Now, since I was in bed, the front door had to be closed and locked. Yikes! Poor kid and poor teenager/twenty something… until the year she passed away, that story always got told at family gatherings. And of course, everyone always had a great laugh at my ingenuity. Even my girlfriend (soon to be my wife) laughed at that story in late 1967. Our son also had a great time laughing at his dad, when he heard that story told by my mom. Upon hearing the story, the final generation (Granddaughter) got a great big laugh at her old, dependable, ingenious Grandfather.
I'm younger than some of you guys and older than some. Most of the things in this thread are things I remember. The only steam locomotive I've ever seen outside of a museum or excursion was one my Dad pointed out to me when I was very small. It was a measly little switcher. It may have been the same day he wanted to walk up to a diesel locomotive that was running on a sideline and I was too scared because the thing was so LOUD. Dad had his good points and bad points but one of his good points was that he was a very able mechanic/machinist/welder if he felt like doing anything. He infected me with the car and motorcycle bug early on. He was like Hank Hill, he sold propane and propane accessories. Often he would keep me out of school and take me on his trips out to the middle of nowhere to service whatever. On one occasion there were a couple of abandoned Army halftracks in a field and I asked him if we could get one running. He was game. I remember him siphoning some gas out of the IH truck he was driving (it was cool) and putting it into one of the halftracks and then us trying to jump start it. It didn't work. Engine was prolly locked up from sitting, but I was impressed that he was willing to try. I still don't know if he really thought he might get it running or if he was humoring me, but that is still stuck in my mind. I hate think of what he would have done if he had gotten it started because he was bats**t nuts and would do most anything. Probably would have found something to run over with it. He seemingly had nine lives, but trying for the tenth life finally killed him.
jnaki.... I was 8 in 1952 same as you thinking the same thing growing up in North Inglewood. Yes I too had an older brother who probably forgot all the BS he handed me so long ago that I will never forget. Best part was he was not a gear head and didn't give a shit about our back garage which had old cars in it or our dad's machine shop. I cherish those times and he never shared in them..
When I was young, if I heard a car coming down the road, I ran out to the road to watch it go by.....didnt care about tractors, they drove by all the time.
The Jalopy Journal
