Those Cars

Stored in my mind, taking up space where Bible verses ought to be memorized but are not, are pictures, memories of cars that friends, neighbors, relatives and acquaintances had during my growing up years. Or just cars that I noticed. There are dozens, hundreds, kajillions of them. Some used to show up around Cove School dropping off or picking up kids during the 1940s. And I rode in some of them. 

Robert’s mother had a Dodge sedan, seems to be it was blue, that I remember riding home from the Ritz Theatre in. I think it was a 1937 Dodge, Robert may remember. The Carmichael family had one like it, and so did the Sheffields two doors down from us. Mrs. Sheffield used to stop at the bottom of the driveway and let us all pile on the running board to zip up to the garage. One day I stepped off while the Dodge was still rolling and the right rear tire rolled over my foot. I thought I was killed, but 30 seconds later it was all forgotten by everyone but my mother.

Scotty’s father had a 1941 Chevrolet business coupe, which seemed to be standard fare for doctors in those days of house calls. I never rode in it, but I did ride in his mother’s 1941 Buick Special sedan, a smooth, two-tone silver and black car that probably had something to do with my lifelong love of Buicks.

The name slips me, but one year or two at Cove School we had a principal whose daughter was in our class. There was a huge episode at school one day, with the ambulance, because she, rumored for unrequited love, had tried to commit suicide: drank a bottle of iodine -- the finger cut medicine with the skull and crossbones on the label. That principle drove a 1936 Buick sedan, and his daughter was fine if embarrassed and it was never mentioned again.

Mentioned here before is the red 1948 Oldsmobile convertible that Powell’s mother owned. This picture is a 1947, no difference except for the shape of the emblem over the front grill and the shape of the taillights. I remember the car zipping up in front of Cove School and Powell standing up and shouting, “Whoa” as clouds of dust rolled over them. Hamilton Avenue was a dirt road in those days.

Henry Smith and his wife had a black 1947 Packard Clipper sedan that I used to see dropping off the boys at Cove School. 

Another one who drove a 1941 Chevrolet coupe was our 3rd and 5th grade teacher, Ruth Martin. The baptismal font that was in our St. Anne’s Chapel is dedicated to her, I think the font is now in the children’s chapel. Miss Martin was the terror of my soul.

During WWII our next door neighbors, Bill Guy’s parents, had a 1940 Ford tudor, maroon. 

One day not long after the war, Mr. Guy drove home in a new 1946 Ford fordor. He was local manager/owner of Danley Furniture. Mr. Danley lived in Opp, Alabama, and Bill told me that Mr. Danley had given his father the car as a bonus.

It was always exciting to look out the front door on a summer morning and see the 1937 Lincoln Zephyr sedan that signaled the arrival of Mrs. Guy’s sister Maggie Pryor and family from St. Paul, Minnesota.

A few years after the war they arrived in a new 1949 Lincoln Cosmopolitan sedan, which Bill’s uncle Chuck let me drive. That year, our combined families took a drive down to Gainesville, which gave me my first glance of my future alma mater.   

My friend Philip lived in the house across 3rd Street from where Holy Nativity Church is now. His father liked Oldsmobile cars, and the one I remember first was a 1939 Olds series 60 four door sedan, green.

After that, during our driving years, they had a 1948 Olds, again green, which we double-dated in many times.

When I was born my parents had a new 1935 Chevrolet Master coach, which was the title GM used for their two door sedans. It was black with white tires and yellow spoke wheels, and a spare tire on the back. But the car I remember best was the 1942 Chevrolet Fleetline Aerosedan that showed up at Cove School to pick me up one afternoon not long after Pearl Harbor. My mother was driving and my little sister and brother were hollering at me out the window, because I was looking for the ’35 Chevy. My grandmother Mom was with them, in the front seat. That evening we followed my father up to Nelson Chevrolet as he turned in the trade in. That evening I regretted not riding with him for one last ride in the old car. This picture of a 1942 Aerosedan is two-toned. Ours was dark blue, but my mother wanted the other one that arrived with it, which was two tone cream and tan, but Bubber Nelson kept that one, I think for a customer who had ordered it.

My growing up years, my grandfather Pop had two cars, a Plymouth coupe that he drove to work and a 1937 Chevrolet Master coach that he called his “Sunday car.” 

I went on many trips in that Chevy with Mom and Pop and Ann, my first cousin, trips to Pensacola to see Uncle Charlie, Pop’s brother who was an Episcopal priest -- Uncle Charlie drove Willys cars; and to see my father’s sister Ruth and to Bluff Springs, and to Grand Ridge to visit Mom’s sisters Alice and Nell, who were married to brothers named King. Aunt Alice’s husband was a farmer, and when we visited on Sunday, the spread on their Sunday table would put Golden Corral to shame. Their unpainted old farmhouse had a large front porch, two parlors, one for everyday and one for company, and on the large back porch waited a toilet that hadn't been installed yet. Aunt Nell had a reed organ in her living room, and I was allowed to play it while the adults sat out on the porch and visited. On our trips to Pensacola, Pop drove the ’37 Chevrolet very fast, and we always stopped in Mary Esther for gasoline and a delicious icy cold bottle of chocolate milk drink, the predecessor to YooHoo.

Tom