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 [Editor’s note: This “Reminiscing” story, edited by Richard Lentinello, comes to us from Hemmings Classic Car reader Terry Brinson of Orland, California.]
The year was 1955 and I was a sophomore in high school. I was not yet 16, the driving age. I had worked for my father at his service station for over a year; my mother had to take me to work because it was too far to use the bicycle. This particular afternoon was not unlike any other. My father was sitting behind his desk doing service station paperwork and as I approached, he said (without lifting his head), “By the way, I bought you a car; it’s out back and I will take the $50 out of your pay.” I was excited and apprehensive at the same time, because he never asked me what kind of car I might like. I rushed out back and there sat a 1937 Chevrolet four-door sedan with the original crappy brown paint. Just the kind of car a teenager wants, right? The good news was, it had four wheels, it ran, and I would soon be getting my driver’s license.
The Chevrolet and I got along well, but the U-joint behind the transmission always seemed to break — I am sure it had nothing to do with me trying to get the old Chevy to burn rubber.
Some of our earliest classic car memories starts with a teen and a dream.
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Re: Reminiscing – My First Two Cars
