Here are some notes about my last car as a Teenager,
A 1933 Ford Victoria.
After the Hot Rod was gone, I was without a car for a while, and then a friend borrowed an almost new Cashmere Sweater from me and burned a big hole in the front of it with a cigarette. He had a brother that was a car salesman, and he also had several cars -- one of which was a
1933 Ford Victoria that he no longer wanted. He offered to give me this car in lieu of replacing the Cashmere Sweater he had ruined. I thought it was a pretty good deal, even if the Vicky was long in the tooth and had a lot of rattles. That's how I ended up with my third car while I was a Teenager.
My Vicky was painted all white, and had stock wheels, unlike the two in the pictures below. Check out those modern paint jobs.
The Vicky had a V 8 motor, standard three speed manual transmission and a pretty nice interior. It was a good road car, with plenty of go power. It also had suicide doors -- doors that open from the front -- not often seen on today's cars.
The Vicky lasted just a few months, and its demise came when I lent it to a young fellow that was the son of the proprietors of the Pepper Tree Trailer Lodge in Santa Paula, CA. I was staying there in a small trailer my Uncle Dell Packard owned, while I was working on a housing project for my uncle. The son returned the Vicky to me with a serious knock in the motor. A main bearing had burned out. I suspected he had been out racing the other kids in town the night before, but I let him off the hook. I figured I could put a new set of bearings in the motor over the weekend. My Pal Johnny and I carefully drove the Vicky to Santa Monica where we had an acquaintance that owned a service station. He lent us his tools and space to work on the Vicky, and we headed to the Auto Parts Store to purchase a set of Main Bearings. the Salesman at the store asked me what size bearings I wanted -- Standard, 10 thousandths under, or 20 thousandths under? I hadn't thought about the size, had not measured the mains on the crankshaft, and didn't have a quick answer.
I conferred with Johnny for a moment, decided the crankshaft was probably very worn, so opted for the 20 thousandths under set of bearings. This later turned out to be a very bad decision. Should have gone with the 10 under.
We returned to the service station and installed the new bearings. Then, the car would not start. The motor would not even turn over. We felt it was probably just a bit tight due to the new bearings, and that a push start would get things working properly. We got our pal at the station to give us a push start, and the motor fired right up and ran smooth, smooth, smooth!
Evening was approaching fast, and it was time to drive up the Coast Highway and return to Santa Paula. I wanted to get some rest because I had a hard day's work ahead of me on the construction job. The Vicky purred out onto the Coast Highway and ran very well until we were just past the Topanga Canyon turnoff. Then, there was a loud Bang! up front in the motor, and we came to a sudden stop. I got out, lifted the hood, and saw a disaster. The motor had thrown a rod through the block on the driver's side and the motor was ruined. Oil was pouring out. The bearing set we had installed was too tight, had seized on the crankshaft, and had broken a connecting rod. The broken end of the rod was what had punctured the motor block AND the oil pan.
We caught a ride over Topanga Canyon Road to Highway 101 on the other side of the mountains, and walked from 101 to my Uncle Dell's house -- a distance of just a couple of miles. Uncle Dell let me use a 1950 Chevrolet pickup truck from his business, and we drove back to the Vicky, put it in tow, and took it to a Santa Paula wrecking yard. I could not afford to put another motor in it, so that was the end of my Vicky. My uncle let me use the pickup truck while I continued working for him.
The Vicky, my third car, was the last car I owned before joining the US Marine Corps in September, 1954. I did drive several other cars, but I didn't own them -- a 1937 Chevy Coupe from Oregon, and a 1946 DeSoto Sedan. I had some lively experiences with both of them.
Just before joining the Marine Corps, I did have one very interesting incident involving cars.
My Sister had a very good friend that was the son of the owner of Jeffries Boat Company in Venice CA. The Son was named Jim, and he liked cars, motorcycles, boats and anything else that would go fast. His father built a number of very special cars at that Boat Company, and Jim had one of them: a brand new 1954 Ford Victoria Hardtop with all new Cadillac running gear, and it was called a Fordalac. That big Cadillac V 8 with a stick transmission made that Ford one of the fastest and most powerful street cars in Los Angeles at the time. The car looked totally stock from the outside, but there was dynamite under the hood!
Jim lent me the Fordalac one fine day, and I was thoroughly enjoying a cruise about town. Heading West on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica, I eased up to a stoplight, and blipped the throttle. The big Cadillac engine died.
I was in the fast lane and there were cars behind me. Rrr, rrr, rrr... The engine would not start. I had flooded it. I got out of the Fordalac and looked behind me. Several cars went around me on the right, but one old 1939 Plymouth Coupe pulled up behind me and the Driver asked me if I could use a push. I sheepishly answered, "Yes, I Sure Could!"
The older fellow driving the Plymouth then said, "These new fangled cars break down all the time, don't they?" I just nodded my head, and got back in the Fordalac thinking the old fellow had no idea about what it was he was about to push with his reliable 1939 Plymouth Coupe!
A quick push, and the Fordalac fired right up. Problem solved, and I didn't blip the throttle anymore...
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