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FINDING LONG LOST FRIENDS
Walking home from 5th grade the Friday of Labor Day weekend 1984, I was on a bit of a high: we were about to embark on a road trip north to see relatives in Minnesota. However, as I rounded the corner, my mood dropped considerably; I didn’t see “my” 1976 Monte Carlo … anywhere. I already knew it was in its last days with us; Dad & Mom were in the process of evaluating replacement vehicles, including a 1978 Caprice Classic sedan, but I didn’t expect “my” car to be just … gone. I was quite relieved when my parents told me it was in the garage. That possibility hadn’t crossed my young mind because, when we went on trips, they routinely left it outside to make it look like people were home.
The reason “my” car was in the garage (where it had been from the time Dad & Mom bought it in 1976 until they bought their 1981 MC in 1982) didn’t make me any happier. They had decided on a replacement vehicle that would become ours Tuesday evening. I was devastated; I wanted NO part of another car. While Dad & Mom finished preparations for the trip, I trudged out to the garage & just stared at “my” car.
To say I enjoyed that Labor Day weekend doesn’t tell the entire story. My relatives in Minnesota didn’t quite understand why I was so unhappy. The weekend flew by & we were on the road Monday morning with the intent of arriving home so we could wash “my” car 1 last time that evening. During the trip, the expressway became a parking lot. We never found out why, though, as Dad did something you aren’t supposed to do: he steered the car through the grassy median to choose another route.
That next day, Tuesday, the front of “my” car smiled at me when I got home from school, but as we drove away from the dealership later that evening in our “new” car (a used 1982 Chevette), I caught a glimpse of the tail end of “my” car … & those taillights literally were frowning at me. I had always seen that “frown” in the rear end, but suddenly that night, the frown was suddenly very real to this at-the-time 11-year-old kid.
All of this came flooding back when I found the results of a “title search” I did for that very car, the car that started may automotive love affair. After my 11/11/2011 open heart surgery, I took some time in early 2012 to start reviewing papers, files & belongings, old magazines, clippings & even letters from people long gone (death, lost touch, etc.).
Through much of my high school senior year, my Dad kept asking me what year MC I wanted. I kept telling him, 1979, the halfway point between 1970 & 1988, the model years of the original generations. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Dad was thinking about searching for their former car. He never did the search, though. So, in 1993, after I had purchased my 1st car, I decided to do just that.
When I received the results from the State of Illinois, I was heartbroken to see a junking certificate, though it wasn’t a complete surprise. From the titles the car had, it appeared “my” car had 2 owners after my parents. I wrote to both; 1 came back undeliverable. A few weeks later, I received a response from the 2nd person. In the letter, the guy wrote he didn’t take any pictures of the car or save any receipts. He also wrote, in part: “The guy I bought the car from had slid into a telephone pole. So after I got the car, I had the frame straightened & a newer quarter panel put on.” … “I sold the car for $1500.00. The person I sold it to turned it into a stock car & welded roll bars into it. He had been racing it when I left for the service. So I don’t know what happened to it after that.”
I was thrilled to know some of what happened to “my” car after Dad & Mom traded it. I’ve wondered what might’ve happened had we done the search sooner, but of course, I’ll never know … & perhaps that is best.
IMAGE: a picture taken of me the evening Dad & Mom traded “my” car on top of 1 of the 4 hubcaps of it I still have today
