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......