My mother had a 1963 model that looked almost identical to this one.



I rode many miles in the back seat of that thing. I can't tell from this picture, but hers had this spare tire looking chrome ring on the back like this one.

Your Mother, huh?

This was my wife's first ride. I bought it for her birthday in 1971.... It had a 273 V8...a real sleeper.

Your Mother, huh?

This was my wife's first ride. I bought it for her birthday in 1971.... It had a 273 V8...a real sleeper.

Yep. My mothers car. I'm guess I'm just an OFIT (Old Fart In Training)

Elder,  my parents had the same car (white) when I was a little tike. 

My Dad had a 64-65 Rambler station wagon, white. Traded it in with a 1967 Chrysler station wagon Town & Country. That was the bomb (and a tank).

Is any of you in the market for any of these babies? Now that Obama allows us, go to Cuba and you will find them.

My folks had a 1964 Chevy Impala and 1965 Chevy Corvair when I was a kid.  My first car was a 1966 Chevelle Malibu (after I rolled the Corvair).  Prior to the Corvair my dad had a Taunus (don't remember what year), a German car in which all of the labels on the dash were in German.  After 2-3 years of ownership there was still one switch that we never figured out what it was for.  Anita's first car was a 1968 Javelin.  She got it brand new when she was 13!

Well...  while we're doing the nostalgia cars thing...

My dad had this 1958 Olds 98 Starfire with Tri-Power.  I copied the ignition key and when my mother and father would go out for the evening my older brother and I would take the Olds out for a spin.  My father always thought that it was odd that the Atlas Bucron's on the back always went bald way before the front tires were.   

First car I remember riding in was my parents 1951 Packard.  It was green I believe because it was made from surplus WWII tank armor plate.

Best car my folks had was a 1965 Buick Wildcat convertible with all the options - biggest engine, bucket seats, console, etc.  My younger brother "drove" (or maybe "rode it") it through a gas station at a very high rate of speed without hitting too many things and then flipped it in the vacant lot next to the gas station.  He and three of his friends walked (crawled) away from it and weren't wearing seat belts.  My father's comments to my brother:  I really can't tell you anything if you haven't learned from you experience yourself.

My father's comments to my brother:  I really can't tell you anything if you haven't learned from you experience yourself.

My high school years were chock-full of self-taught inflicted "lessons".

(In case you're wondering...F-250's don't float.) 

(In case you're wondering...F-250's don't float.) 

Barnaby?!

It was the HMS Barnaby that evening.

That particular adventure also provided me with the "opportunity" to ring the front doorbell of our school superintendent's house...at 3:30 in the morning...after being dropped off in his driveway by the Montana State Highway Patrol...with the superintendent's daughter...to ask if I could use his phone to call my parents so that they could come get me.  (Barnaby was still swimming with the fishes at that point.)  Not one of my prouder moments. 

Man,the stories that old truck could tell...