The editor’s Blowin’ Smoke – 1-Jan-2010

My first car was a 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass S “holiday” coupe. It was painted an awful quasi-yellow with brown rally stripes and brown rally wheels. It had a aftermarket spoiler bolted through the trunk and even though it was 1985 I knew it was cheesy. But it also had a Hurst Dual Gate shifter and a strong running 350 Olds. Of course, I loved it, though the spoiler was the first thing I changed on the car. That was quickly followed by my first — and last for many years — attempt at using a spray gun. After the bolt holes in the trunk lid were filled and the filler applied and sanded, I decided I should paint the trunk lid. The term orange peel comes to mind when I think of the paint finish.

My dad wasn’t entirely thrilled I had caught the car bug. He’d vetoed my first desire — a 1967 Fairlane, less motor and tranny. Though he was a mechanic and car guy, he was skeptical a project car was a good first purchase for a teenager with little experience or cash. He was probably right, but the ’66-’67 Fairlanes are still one of my favourite body styles.

Anyway, back to the Cutlass. I always loved the body style of the holiday coupe (coupes and convertibles didn’t interest me) and when I found the ad for the car, I begged my dad to come see it with me.

I still remember him lying on his bed probably trying to take a Saturday afternoon nap (as a small business owner, spare time and naps were rare) with me pestering him about this car. I needed his approval. Not just because he was my dad, but because he was going to be my financier. I worked at the shop every summer but I didn’t have the $2,800 the Cutlass owner was asking.

He finally gave in and we drove to nearby Cambridge, ON to the see the car. I could tell my dad wasn’t impressed, though I was immediately smitten. There was obvious signs of filler in the quarters and the tires were clearly in need of retirement but the engine ran good which meant it wasn’t a motorless, trannyless project.

We tried to talk the guy down in price, but I think we still ended up paying $2,800.

Besides making monthly payments to Bank of Dad, I spent the summer of ’85 spending all my spare money on the Olds. The yellow and brown theme was unfortunately carried over into the interior, which sported (original) brown vinyl buckets seats. I had them reupholstered in black suede and all the door panels and dash were dyed black. After a few days driving in the rain, I noticed the carpet in the back seat was wet. I pulled it up to find a floor in need of repair. It was dad to the rescue there with a few hours of welding on another Saturday afternoon.

Of course, it needed new tires but they had to be cheap. A white lettered set of Daytonas were purchased and after I ditched the chrome rings and painted the wheels to match the body colour, the car looked pretty cool.

After I installed a stereo (AM/FM cassette — wow, modern technology) the transformation into cool daily driver was complete. Well, at least as complete as I could afford. I still remember it as being one of the nicest driving cars I’ve ever owned.

Sadly, the only photos I had of the car were lost in a move a few years ago.

There were a lot of firsts with that car. Besides it being my first car and the aforementioned first attempt at paint work, it was the first vehicle I ever went more than 100 miles per hour in. My buddy Schmidty and I were driving back to Grand Bend, ON after an afternoon ball game in Brantford. We had rented a cottage — along with three other friends — in Grand Bend but couldn’t miss our ball game. We were in a hurry to get back to the beach and the girls so when we were on a long, empty country road, I glued my foot to the floor.

If you know the lyrics to Hot Rod Lincoln “. . .telephone poles looked like a picket fence….the lines on the road just look like dots” you get an idea of the sensation. Finally, at close to 120, the speed scared me and I backed out of it. All I could think of was how badly the four-wheel drum brakes faded when asked to do too much. (Found that out one night while racing a Trans Am on University Ave in Waterloo, ON. Had the Trans Am by a car length but the next light change took me by surprise. The Oldsmobile wouldn’t stop and we blasted through the intersection. (Yes, we were stupid and we were lucky.)

The Olds was also the first car I ever sold. I’m not even sure why I sold it. I remember wanting to put a 455 in it and even had a engine to do it. Dad would often buy customer cars not worth fixing and use them as shop cars. One of those cars was a early ’70s Delta 88 with a 455. When the body began to rot off the frame, the car was destined for the crusher. I pulled the motor one weekend and left it on a engine stand in anticipation of swapping it under the Cutlass hood.

When I arrived at work Monday morning the engine was gone. Dad tossed it in the scrap metal bin. “What do you want that boat anchor for?” Sigh.

I eventually sold the car and used the money to pay my first year university tuition (you could do that in 1987) and buy a home stereo

The replacement?A $500 1981 K-car station wagon. Yikes.

So, why am I telling you this? Well, I got to thinking there must be a lot of first car stories out there and I know I’d like to read some.

So, if you’ve got a few hours one night and the nostalgia fires start to burn, dig up those old photos and scribble down a few memories.

I know there are thousands of good stories out there.