Mr-914 wrote:While looking for a photo, I found one for sale that was rolled:( Very sad sight.
I still remember being only 9 or 10 and whenever Dad would stop for a red-light, I could lean over and touch the ground from the back edge of the window!
He loved that car, her name was Henrietta. I don't want anyone to think an accident was involved; here's what happened. I was 18 or 19, in college and still living at home when my Mom decided to have a garage sale. Dad was on his way out of town for a biz trip and she half joked as he left, "I'll sell that useless yellow thing if you aren't here to object." I remember laughing because that was not plausible, impossible, inhumane and certainly not serious...right? I came home from classes that day and Henrietta was GONE.
My Dad bought it in 1968 for $400 - from a little old lady whose husband passed away. Dad had gone to her house looking for tools at a garage sale, saw the car and talked her into selling it to him. The car was perfect and hadn't spent a single night in the elements all the years he had her. She only had a new battery and new tires, other than that she was completely original and only had about 30K miles. She'd been appraised for insurance a few years before this for $11,500 - all original paint, no accidents, all original leather in great shape, perfect chrome, perfect engine, etc. My Mom sold her to some guy for $2500 - signed my Dad's name on the title. My parents didn't talk much for a few months after that and one Saturday a year or so later I was outside playing basketball when I heard that familiar sound - the guy who'd bought it came around the corner and parked in front of our house - he wanted to show my Dad the cool things he'd done - a stereo in the dash (he cut a hole in that dash), a driver's side leather covered roll bar (he tore up the original carpet and had bars welded to the floorpan - unsupported) and touring lights (he drilled holes in that gorgeous chrome bumper). I politely told him he should leave - and he did. Never saw Henrietta again.
not long after that, my Dad bought his first Corvette (he's had 3 since) and I remember my Mom saying something to the affect of 'don't dare do it' as he and I drove over to see it - he bought it on the spot and looked somewhat happy as he drove into our driveway.