By Louis A. Zona
YOUNGSTOWN, Ohio – Some of the funniest occurrences in my life have involved the automobile.
When I think of my very first car, a 1953 Chevrolet Bel Air that once belonged to my brother-in-law Albert, I think of the commutes from my home in New Castle to Youngstown State University. When we’d have a good rain, the hole in my floorboard created a geyser, with the water shooting up like Old Faithful into the front seat. My buddies, John and Tony, would have to keep their foot over the hole.
And speaking of Tony, he thought it would be a good idea to help a fellow student who was having trouble with his engine’s fuel pump by laying across his engine and pouring gasoline directly into the pump. Wick Avenue never experienced such a sight as Tony stretched across an open engine acting as a human automobile fuel pump.
There is one event that I will never forget relating to my ’53 Chevy. It was a cold wintry night when my brother-in-law Albert drove down to my house with cans of motor oil to change the oil in the Chevy. As Albert poured the oil into the engine, I commented about the fact that a Russian ship would be breaking through the embargo, pointing to the beginning of what would come to be known as the Cuban Missile Crisis. I told Albert that we may not make it through the night. Fearing that we would all be destroyed in a nuclear war, why pour oil into my crank case?
With that, Albert stopped his work and said, “Lou, the good Lord would not let that happen.” And of course he was right.
I always wanted a Corvette, but in recent years I came to realize that it is one beautiful automobile but also one that would never suit my body. Or my wallet.
My legs have the darnedest time fitting into that low and rather uncomfortable sports seat. I actually test-drove my dream car but soon realized that it might best be called my nightmare car. In no way would I ever get out of one of those sleek beauties. Maybe in Heaven there won’t be beer, as the song warns, but just maybe every soul would be driving a Vette!
My Uncle Jimmy was probably the only person in Pennsylvania to own and drive a “Henry Jay” – the small car that came out in the early 1950s. Only people of a certain age and limited resources could own a Henry Jay! They were cars that even the most serious car owner would hide.
But the competition for the ugliest car must also consider the Hudson Hornet or even the Hudson Jet.
My other brother-in-law, Mike, was the owner of a Hudson Hornet, which besides being an unattractive vehicle was also a car that gave him nothing but mechanical problems.
Another automobile that has disappeared into the car history books is the Frazier, which compares nicely with the infamous Corvair with the motor in the rear. It was equally delicate and could often be seen stalled along highways and byways. The Corvair, despite its drawbacks, was fun to drive and was particularly appealing to college-age drivers who might often be seen with a wrench and screwdriver in the glove compartment.
A few summers back I got to spend a week or so in Germany, the home of automobile excellence (at least that’s what is said about German cars by car industry publishers, who never seem to choose an American car for their awards).
Perhaps the most fun that I ever had driving was in my uncle’s Cadillac. Every summer, my parents vacationed at my Uncle Arthur’s near Cincinnati, and each summer he would throw his car keys at me and say, “Have some fun!” And boy, would I have a great time driving that beautiful car around Cincy.
Now get ready for a revelation.
While walking through a neighborhood in Germany, I saw a relatively new Cadillac. I was shocked to see the all-American luxury vehicle parked there.
After I examined the car for a length of time, the owner came out of his house and asked, “Are you a fan of Cadillac?” I said yes and he invited me to spend some time with the car. I then was shocked to hear him rate the Cadillac over Mercedes and other German luxury cars. He said German drivers appreciate the fine automobiles produced in American factories.
Perhaps American car companies need some more of this recognition. Who knows, maybe an award or two will come our way.