The cars in my life - Part Three

The first new car, a 1976 Plymouth Volaré
(Thanks to my Colorado gurus, I have put the accent mark over the  "e".)
So -
Here's the rest of the story.
This is the car that came back to haunt us.
We had driven it for about a year when our daughter Denise was involved in an accident
she couldn't possibly have avoided.  As she was driving  a friend home one night, a drunk college student,
playing "Ditch 'em" in his pickup came racing out of a one way street, going the wrong way, with
his lights out.  The Volaré hit the pickup, was spun 180 degrees, and was then hit in the rear by another car.
The driver of the pickup crashed into a nearby service station, jumped out of his pickup but was too drunk to run.
Fortunately, no one was injured.
My insurance people said I could elect to have our car repaired or consider it totaled.  I chose "Totaled".
I began a search for an identical car but apparently Chrysler Motors only made one silver Volaré with maroon interior that year and I had to settle on one that was nowhere near as beautiful. (No fair looking ahead.)
A few weeks later the silver Volaré was for sale on the lot where I had first bought it. You would never have known it had
ever been in an accident.  I tried to make a deal with the salesman to buy it back; he wouldn't give me the time of day, probably because I had gone to Portland to buy the car I was driving.
That silver beauty sat on the lot, taunting and teasing me for a few weeks.  Every time I drove by my dislike
for our present car increased.
Then one day I drove by and it was gone.  I asked the dealer who had bought it; he said "Some young couple from
out of state."  Great!  I'd never see it again.
The following summer I drove by Ida Lyman's house, just two blocks down the hill from where we lived.
Parked in front of her house was our beautiful 1976 Plymouth Volaré.
The "young couple from out of state" were Ida's daughter and son-in-law and they came every  summer
to visit.  They drove that car for many, many years and it haunted me every time I saw it.
So it must be true: color is everything when it comes to buying a car.

The silver Volaré was replaced by this blue and white one,
seen here  at  our campground at Jubilee Lake in August, 1977.

Here it is in 1978.
Does this kid look like a future Ph.D?

The deep snow of 1982

Grandma and Grandpa with Ben in 1984.
(The license plate letters stand for "Expensive to Keep Up")

In 1985, as I walked to work each day, I noticed a really sharp  looking car
parked at the court house.  I would stop and admire it, wishing I had a car like that.
Then one day Clark Hiatt (distant relative), a salesman at Goss Motors called me.
"Dick," he said, "I just took in a car you've got to see.  It isn't even on the lot yet.
I wanted you to have first chance at it."  I was at Goss Motors ten minutes later.
He took me out to the shop and there sat the very car I had been admiring for so many weeks.
It was meant to be!!

Here's our 1983 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera in all its splendor.
I was in love again.

1988 - our beautiful tree in full bloom
and the beautiful Oldsmobile in the driveway.

Camping at Donner Lake in 1988

1989
Our family reunion at the Oregon Coast

At Julie's and Tom's house in Vancouver in 1989

1990
In Canmore, Canada, during our trip to Glacier/Watertown

In 1991, after having dinner at the Chuck-a-Rama following  Grandmother  Nan's  funeral,
we came out to get in our car and we couldn't find it.
It's a weird feeling, walking all over a parking lot looking for a car that isn't there.
It takes a while for it to sink in.  The car is gone.
"SOMEONE HAS STOLEN OUR CAR!!!"
We called the police. We called our insurance company.
Nationwide said we had to wait 30 days.  If the car had not been recovered by then
we would be paid top book value.
We gave them Dennis' name and number as a local contact.
Meanwhile, we were given a rental car to get our daughters back to Portland/Vancouver
and for travel back to La Grande.
We counted down the days.  On the 29th day Dennis called;
our Oldsmobile had been found abandoned at a shopping mall parking lot. No major damage.
When I got to SLC to pick it up, the car had been detailed to the Nth degree.
It was immaculate, inside and out.  It  had never looked better.
HOWEVER...
The rental car we had driven from SLC to Portland was a brand new 1991 Ford Taurus.
We had had an 800-mile test drive and we were spoiled.
A few weeks later we drove to Portland and traded in the Oldsmobile.
  

Our 1991 Ford  Taurus
The color is not tan, it's "Mocha Frost".

August, 1991
At the beach house we rented for our family reunion.

1992
In Leavenworth, Washington
A town well worth the visit.

1994
At Julie's and Tom's new house

1995 in Vancouver
Can Claire's mother still do this?

We drove the Taurus for ten years and it never needed any major repairs.
It took us to to the coast several time, to Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons,
 Angie's wedding, Karen's funeral, Cove, Oregon Trail Historical Sites,
Julie's Kochanski recital, to and from Shirley's hip surgery,
to a "Big River" production, Silver Falls, Denny's wedding,
Astoria, Fort Clatsop, Tony's wedding, Andrew's wedding,
Julia's Junior Miss recitals, Wallowa Lake, Ben's  high school graduation......

In 2001, during one of our visits to Julie and family in Vancouver, I went tire kicking,
mostly because I like looking at new cars where the salesman doesn't know you.
I took a test drive in a car that caught my eye.
The salesman really wanted to make a sale, but I decided to think it over.
Back in La Grande, talking to the owner of  Lynch Motors,
I told him about the car I had driven in Vancouver, the model, the color, how it was equipped,
right down to which sound system it had.
He said "I can have a car just like it here in four days."  Which he did.
(Found out later he had made a trade with the Vancouver dealership and had picked up
the very car we had test driven.)
So......

Our 2001 Buick Century Limited Edition
It's not red, it's "Burgandy".

We almost always parked it in the garage
but doesn't it look nice under our flowering tree?

Between 2001 and 2006 we drove this car to such special occasions as
Our 50th wedding anniversary dinner in Vancouver
Our 50th wedding anniversary reunion in SLC.
(But we rode in a limo to the Grand America)
Julia's Washington Junior Miss recital in Connell, Wash.
Amy's wedding
Julia's high school graduation
Russell rowing (and winning) with the Vancouver Lake Crew
Ben's graduation from the Univ. of Wash.
Julia's wedding in the Portland Temple

Then came the stent....

We now have a much bigger garage.
Since November 2006, we have driven to such exotic locales as
Harmon's, Walmart, Smith's, Albertson's, Fresh Market,
various doctors' offices, several different barbers,
Barb's, Denny's, Tony's, and eight blocks to church once a week.

Our car is 12 years old.
The current odometer reading is 41,753 miles.

So, there you have it.
12cars in 66 years
3 Studebakers
2 Fords
1 Pontiac
1 Chevrolet
1 Dodge
2 Plymouths
1 Oldsmobile
1 Buick

This will probably be our last car.
However---
Even at my age, nothing beats the smell of new car interior.
And there's this older fellow in our ward who drives a fire-engine red  Camaro.....

The cars in my life - Part Two

In 1951, home from my mission, I used some money from my  share of the folks' estate
to put a down payment on this dark blue 1948 Studebaker Champion.
This was the car a beautiful Salt Lake City girl and I used to drive up on a hill
east of La Grande and listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir....among other things.
It was our honeymoon car in December.

1952 - The new husband out for a picnic
in his new car.

The beautiful Salt Lake City girl.

1953
Graduate school at the University of Oregon, married student  housing,
Barbie perched precariously on the Studebaker while her mom
tenders a rescuing arm.

1957
The '48 Studebaker was traded in on this 1952  Pontiac, which drove like some lumbering
tank in comparison.  But it had more room for our growing family.

1958
En route to one of many summer trips to Iowa City
At Grandmother Nan's home
Michael, Barb, Julie
(Note that neat job of tying down the tarp atop that Pontiac.)

1958
On the banks of the Mississippi River , part of our
trip to Nauvoo while in Iowa City.

June, 1960
We had traded the lumbering Pontiac in on a zippy 1956 Ford.
The little boy on the left is my nephew Jim Bean's son, with Julie, Denny, and Barb.
(The Volkswagen parked behind our Ford is Jim's car.)

1964
Long before there were RVs, there were station wagons.
When we folded down the back seat in our 1962 fire-engine red Chevrolet
all three girls had plenty of room to sleep on the long trips to Iowa City.
(There was no concern about seat belts way back then.)

1971
Buying this 1970 Dodge was a huge mistake,
  A gas guzzler, which bottomed out when there was any
kind of load in the trunk, it seemed to have a mind of its own
on the road.  I think the only reason we drove it for as long
as we did was because, hey, it was a pretty good looking car.

Bring Barb home from her year at Rick's College.
(AKA BYU -Idaho)

Camping in Zion Park.

1976
We bought our first new car, a 1976 Plymouth Volare.
Silver grey with maroon interior.  What a beauty!
(Stay tuned for "the rest of the story".)

The Cars in My Life -- Part One

When I was growing up in the 1920s and 30s, we never owned a car; we walked everywhere, school, church,
shopping, errands....all on foot (or bicycle).
But the Trollingers, who lived just two houses down the street from us, did, and my earliest fond memory
of cars is of the many times Mrs. Trollinger would take my mom and me, her little girl, Hazel Jean, and one or two
others to Cove (14 miles away) to go swimming.  The trip to Cove was great, but the trip back,
usually way after dark, was even better.  We would sing all the way home.
Quite often we were accompanied by a quite large lady, Gertrude Tichner, who had a wonderful singing voice.
We called her our very own Kate Smith, and she loved to sing "When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain"
and other popular songs of the day.
What a wonderful way  for a little boy to fall asleep after swimming and a picnic.
(That's Hazel Jean on her mother's lap; I'm sitting in front of my Mom.  The man is Mr. Trollinger,
who, being a railroad man like my Dad, was never along on those trips to Cove.)

Fast-forward to 1946.
I was honorably discharged after almost three year ins the Navy.
  With $600 of mustering out pay burning a hole in my  pocket,
I bought  my first car, a 1937 Studebaker Dictator that had been sitting up on blocks
in a farmer's field during all of World War II, because of gas rationing.
This was one big roomy car! Take a look at the way those back doors open.  And, yes,
those are spare tires in the front fender wells.  Nobody worried about gas mileage in those days ,
but this baby burned oil like crazy, even after Ray Shinsel and I spent hours under the car,
my handling Ray the tools while he did the work.

There were, however, advantages to owning  a car.
(The relationships here were mostly platonic.)

John Bean, Dave Nelson and I decided to drive to Los Angeles  in 1947, to see our friend,
Ray Shinsel, who had moved down there and assured me it was a great place to sell my car
so I could help my Dad buy a new one.

So here I am, on our way to sunny California.
Our adventure came to an unfortunate end, however, when a man on a motorcycle crashed into us on Ramona Blvd.
while we were on our way to sell the car.  He was killed outright; the car was totaled.
A mechanic paid me fifty dollars so he could tow it to his shop and salvage some parts.
John, Dave and I hitch-hiked back to La Grande.

Although I had no money to help out, Dad bought his first, last, and only car,
this 1948 Studebaker Champion.
  Note the wide white-walls, and the way the back doors opened.
The front fenders had rectangular vents that could be opened by pulling a knob on the dash board  to
bring fresh air into the car.  Who needed air conditioning.
The front hood came to a rounded point, a decided improvement over the first
post-war Studebaker, which were so far out you had
trouble telling whether the car was coming or going.

I drove the car more than Dad did, and the car spent a lot of time up on the college campus.
(Yes, the picture was taken by a coed, whose shadow you may have noticed.)
This little Studebaker took my Mom, Dad and me to Salt Lake City for the centennial celebration
on July 24, 1947....the only trip the three of us ever made by car.
A fond memory.

This car also took me and some friends into the snow-covered  hills  for the one and only time
I ever tried to ski.  I thought I could impress the young lady, who was really into that sort of thing.
Big mistake.
  I don't think we ever dated again.
In 1952, after the death of my parents, my brother Dave inherited the car. He needed
it a lot more than I did.

1949
The adventure of a life time.
Elder Morris Gardner,Elder Bart Olson  and I
were being transferred from Paris, France, to Geneva, Switzerland.
European Mission President Alma Sonne was touring the French Mission with
French Mission President James L. Barker in Pres. Barker's car, so we three Elders
got to drive the Sonne car from Paris to Geneva, through some of the most
spectacular country in all of Europe.

The trip was not without its challenges, however.
You'll note that I was letting the other Elder do all the heavy lifting.

It's comforting to have a general authority put his arm around  you.
Here I am (left) with Pres. Sonne,  Sister Sonne,
 Pres. & Sister Barker (both with glasses at center)
and other missionaries at the mission home in Geneva.

I'm cheating a bit here.
This is a 1946 Desoto, just not the one Pres. Barker drove.
I was privileged to accompany him on many trips throughout
the mission.
The hours I spent in that car, listening to
Pres. Barker expound on the gospel, were a
tremendous influence on my testimony.
What a privilege.

To be continued......