My First New Car
Warning: Nostalgia post follows—a long and rambling nostalgia post. But there's a cat.
As of a few weeks ago, Pontiacs won't be made anymore. That's a shame. They made great cars. One of my favorite cars—a 1967 Firebird—was made by Pontiac.
Actually, the 67 Firebird was a 67-and-a-half, because it came out a bit late to be a true 67. My yellow Firebird was the first car I ever bought new, and it replaced the 61 Ford Falcon that I'd been driving during my last two years of college.
The first time I saw a Firebird, I coveted it. In early May 1967, right after I signed my first teaching contract with York County Schools (to teach at Poquoson High School during 67-68), I ordered my new Firebird—canary yellow with a black interior. My daddy's cousin, Guy Brown, who worked at the Pontiac dealership on Williamson Road in Roanoke, sold it to me for $3,550. My payments were slightly over $50 a month, but I figured I could swing it because I'd get a whopping $5,500 per year from York County, which was one of the highest-paying school systems to which I'd applied. (My take-home pay was $355 per month. You'll notice 1967 was a year marked by 3s and 5s.)
Anyhow, I had the car a couple of weeks before I graduated from Richmond Professional Institute (which became VCU). Dorm students weren't supposed to have cars, but I'd kept the old Falcon on the streets of Richmond for two years without getting caught, and so the Firebird lived on the streets for a month, too. (Yeah, I checked on it a couple times a day.)
I put some miles on that Firebird. It took me to Newport News, where I lived in the Dutch Village Apartments (and where I met my husband at the swimming pool). It took me to Poquoson every weekday for work and to William & Mary during June and July 1968 for a graduate class in modern fiction.
That August, the Firebird took me to Charleston, SC, where hubby had been transferred, and it took me from North Charleston (where we lived in the Royal Palms Apartments) down the Ashley Highway to the Citadel where I went to grad school. The Firebird wasn't air-conditioned, so I drove with the windows down during the sweltering South Carolina summers.
When I got a job at St. Andrews Junior High for the 69-70 school year, it took me to work. During one of the hurricanes, someone ran into the back of it and left a small dent on the left side under the bumper. We never bothered to get it fixed.
The Firebird didn't take me to Massachusetts were we lived for a few months in late 1970, but it was back on the road when we moved back to Newport News. In 1972 we moved to Roanoke, so it took me to work at James Madison Junior High. When the odometer passed a hundred thousand, I bought a new 1977 Pinto (a truly dreadful car). But the Firebird stayed on the road off and on until 1980 when it went to live in my mother's garage. Once, a guy passing by saw it and offered $4,500 for it. We decided not to sell.
When we moved to Franklin County, the Firebird came along, albeit on a flatbed. It lived in the equipment shed next to the horses' run-in shelter for over a decade (Twiggy had her kittens under it), and it became coated with Franklin County red dirt.
When hubby cleaned out the shed a few weeks ago, he pulled it out. Since he needed the flatbed to move hay, the Firebird was unloaded on the lawn. The last couple of rains have washed most of the dust off.
With the dust washed off, you can see where it's starting to rust.
The Firebird is showing its age. It's an antique now.
So, I guess, am I.
As of a few weeks ago, Pontiacs won't be made anymore. That's a shame. They made great cars. One of my favorite cars—a 1967 Firebird—was made by Pontiac.
Actually, the 67 Firebird was a 67-and-a-half, because it came out a bit late to be a true 67. My yellow Firebird was the first car I ever bought new, and it replaced the 61 Ford Falcon that I'd been driving during my last two years of college.
 |
| My new Firebird in my mother's driveway on Floraland Drive in Roanoke. |
Anyhow, I had the car a couple of weeks before I graduated from Richmond Professional Institute (which became VCU). Dorm students weren't supposed to have cars, but I'd kept the old Falcon on the streets of Richmond for two years without getting caught, and so the Firebird lived on the streets for a month, too. (Yeah, I checked on it a couple times a day.)
I put some miles on that Firebird. It took me to Newport News, where I lived in the Dutch Village Apartments (and where I met my husband at the swimming pool). It took me to Poquoson every weekday for work and to William & Mary during June and July 1968 for a graduate class in modern fiction.
That August, the Firebird took me to Charleston, SC, where hubby had been transferred, and it took me from North Charleston (where we lived in the Royal Palms Apartments) down the Ashley Highway to the Citadel where I went to grad school. The Firebird wasn't air-conditioned, so I drove with the windows down during the sweltering South Carolina summers.
When I got a job at St. Andrews Junior High for the 69-70 school year, it took me to work. During one of the hurricanes, someone ran into the back of it and left a small dent on the left side under the bumper. We never bothered to get it fixed.
The Firebird didn't take me to Massachusetts were we lived for a few months in late 1970, but it was back on the road when we moved back to Newport News. In 1972 we moved to Roanoke, so it took me to work at James Madison Junior High. When the odometer passed a hundred thousand, I bought a new 1977 Pinto (a truly dreadful car). But the Firebird stayed on the road off and on until 1980 when it went to live in my mother's garage. Once, a guy passing by saw it and offered $4,500 for it. We decided not to sell.
When we moved to Franklin County, the Firebird came along, albeit on a flatbed. It lived in the equipment shed next to the horses' run-in shelter for over a decade (Twiggy had her kittens under it), and it became coated with Franklin County red dirt.
When hubby cleaned out the shed a few weeks ago, he pulled it out. Since he needed the flatbed to move hay, the Firebird was unloaded on the lawn. The last couple of rains have washed most of the dust off.
With the dust washed off, you can see where it's starting to rust.
The Firebird is showing its age. It's an antique now.
So, I guess, am I.
~
Update: We sold the car to a guy down the road. He collects cars and restores them. Here's the Post: https://peevishpen.blogspot.com/2015/09/1967-firebird.html
Labels: nostalgia
posted by Becky Mushko | 2:33 PM
4 Comments:
Becky, You still have that car! You must have loved it very much. Enjoyed your story.
I say fix er up and take home the money!
Wow. My husband would love to have his first car still. I hope you get that beauty fixed up!
My first car was a Mustang II. When I sold it, the girl who bought it kept getting mistaken for me, which she hated. It finally caught fire on the highway and burned. To this day, that girl won't speak to me. I find that odd, since we both did much the same things during high school: arts, writing, newspaper, horses, etc. ~ sigh ~ People never cease to amaze me, and sometimes not in a good way. ;)
~ RLMT
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