Bel Air Man:Driving Down the Staircase of Life
by Wendel James Potter
September 16, 2007
We've been through some things together
With trunks of memories still to come
We found things to do in stormy weather
Long may you run.
Long may you run
Long may you run
Although these changes have come
With your chrome heart shining in the sun
Long may you run.
.....Neil Young
Everyone from my generation seems to remember their very first car. Some of us may not remember our mother's maiden name; but the year, the make and model of that first car is always on the tips of our tongues.
There was a tremendous amount of pride to be taken in a car that you had bought and paid for on your own. Especially back in those days when possessions were not taken for granted.
They were earned, not assumed. And, oh, the memories they still evoke.
The first car registered in my name was a 1964 Chevy Bel Air. The color was a butt ugly beige on cream. I didn't care if the sucker was tweed or Scotch plaid. It was mine.
Now that wasn't the first car I drove. I learned to drive in my father's blue '68 Impala. Having Dad along riding shotgun was a huge treat.
Dad would never have made it as a driving instructor. He had a case of nerves, a bad heart, and was excitable to the point of reaching over and grabbing the steering wheel if he thought I was weaving.
Well, I meant to do that. I was just looking ahead to the day I would drink and so I figured it would be beneficial to practice my weaving.
I had my first date in that Impala. As a matter of fact, I had several dates in that Impala. Once again, having Dad along riding shotgun was a huge treat.
My brother had a '67 Bel Air when he was in college, while I was still in high school. He carpooled 3 weeks out of the month, so his Bel Air was left at home for me to drive, as long as I paid for the gas.
It was a good, solid car that my brother bought from our sister-in-law. It was a kind of dull gold in color and the fanciest thing about it was the 8-track tape player my brother installed.
I'm not sure now what would be the bigger dinosaur...the car or the 8-track player.
But believe me, when I drove that Bel Air it did real well on the street. It got about 35 mpg (memories per gallon).
Back then, gasoline was cheap. The memories were priceless.
Later on, I bought my '64 Bel Air. It was a 3-speed on the column. It had an AM radio. It had well over 100,000 miles on it.
And it ran like a top. Sometimes it weaved.
I had that Bel Air when I met my wife. Most of our dates depended on that car and it never failed me throughout our engagement.
By the time we got married, however, the car was beginning to show its age. On our wedding day, some members of the party tied tin cans to the bumper. When it came time to dispose of the tin cans, there was some confusion and the Bel Air nearly got thrown away.
Well, we hadn't been married but a few months when the old gal gave out. The car, not my wife. She's still up and running.
The Bel Air was 14 years old and had developed front end problems. It began weaving on its own. It wasn't bad, though...for instance, if there was ever a need to drive it down a winding staircase.
Cars are different than people. I'm 55 and so far have developed no front end problems. Although I could probably stand a tune-up just to make sure my piston strokes are completing their cycle.
I don't recall what the other half dozen problems were that seemed to crop up all at once. I do remember that it went from riding smoothly, like on a cloud, to herking and jerking. Kind of like a woman who goes from strolling barefoot on the beach to walking down a flight of stairs on stiletto heels.
Being a young, married couple, my wife and I didn't have the dough to put into a lot of vehicle repairs. She had brought her own car to the marriage and my dad sold me that '68 Impala when he decided to buy a new Oldsmobile.
Dad no longer felt the need to ride shotgun. That was definitely a huge treat.
The Bel Air was eventually sold to someone who thought he could fix it up. A hundred bucks cash money. Not much less than I'd paid for it.
It was worth much more in memories.
So I had come full circle and ended up with the Impala in which I'd first learned to drive.
Many more cars have come and gone in my life. But somewhere in my heart, I'll always be a Bel Air man.
Copyright 2007 Wendel James Potter
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