Legendary

www.aerocarforsale.com

"Look, there's the Aerocar." Moulton Taylor lived in Longview and sometimes flew his Aerocar out of the Kelso Airport. I saw it being driven one time, but it wasn't towing its wings. The Aerocar wasn't a commercial success and only five were built.

Probably sick of reading Golden Books to me, Dad told me stories of the underdog car makers like Taylor, Kaiser, Tucker and Amphicar. Ingenuity trumps success.

Aggravating Circumstances

When Dad got a hankering or as relief on hot evenings, we'd head for the Dairy Queen. "One soft chocolate cone, one dipped cone and a chocolate shake." And, when a hot fudge sundae made it into the lineup, that was a special kind of wonderful.

I don't think Uncle Jerry had such wonderful  memories of the Dairy Queen. He took my mom and me out for burgers in his new 1956 aqua and white Chevy and I put the first blemish on it. When you aren't tall enough to see over the front seats, you must stand on the backseat. It was the discarded pickle I was standing on that bumped my infraction up to a felony.

Photo from Uncle Atom on Flickr.

Clam Fritters

Mom & Eddie's 1950 Chevy

It was a day trip from Kelso to Long Beach. We'd drive right onto the beach and set up for the day. The car served as windbreak, chuckwagon and dressing room. But more often, our beach trips meant digging for clams. We were prodigious clammers. If we had one, our family crest would feature a razor clam.


Clam Clan: (counterclockwise) Me on my Aunt Carol's lap, Uncle Tommy, Eddie, Dad, Mom. My grandma, "Mom," is the photographer.

Social Studies

Mrs. Jackson sometimes sang in class. She had a determined, yet warbly, vocal style. Even though I tried to stifle a laugh, there was no tamping it down. On each occasion, it devolved into full-throated laughter. I regret being unkind, but I am perversely proud of that Zero.

Things I Thought I Would Be But Never Was

Able to hear dogs speak to me. Adopted. Left handed. Red headed. A prodigy. A tennis pro. An archaeologist. A Californian. A high school teacher. A naval officer. A feminist. A journalist. A radical. A medical technologist. A meter maid. An artist. A cartoonist. A cartographer. A world traveler. An interpreter at the UN. A beach volleyball pro. A poet. Fluent in Esperanto.

18 Degrees Below

We lived with my grandparents while my dad built our house on the lot next door. I grew up running between the two houses. Mom and Eddie always had dogs and cats. One day Eddie came up with a present for me. Under his jacket was a puppy, my first dog, Butch. That's Butchie in between Eddie and the white dog on a hay truck. This photo was taken the year Mom & Eddie tended a ranch in freezing cold or blazing hot Dairy, Oregon.



Butchie of Sunrise Street
Sire: Bobby Cawlfield
Dame: Nickle Ribary
Grand Dame: Cocoa Ribary

George Booth

One of my favorite New Yorker covers by a favorite cartoonist.

S.I.S.T.E.R.

This is me as a nascent, feminist lesbian. My car wore a bra, but I didn't.

1953 Spudster

The Potato Heads were must-haves in my stable of toys. Back then, it was still BYOP (bring your own potato). All that the Potatoes could do was stand around unless you bought them a car. A really big day for them was changing hats or Mrs. P. might sneak a smoke. I only recently learned that they had kids, Brother Spud and Sister Yam. I heard that those kids went on to form a soul group that opened for Sly and the Family Stone. "We are fam-i-lee..."


Hugs and a bouquet to Ed & Mark who served me all my favorites last night, including mashed potatoes!

Tubes

Whenever our TV was on the blink, my dad squatted behind the set to figure out which tube was the problem; then drove down to the tube tester before the store closed. The testing was almost always inconclusive. Dad scoured the drawers of small, coded boxes for his best guess.


Pictured: Atwater Kent Type TA 2 tube power amp from radiolaguy.com

Dream Cars

www.californiaautos.com

1948 Chevy Woody Wagon

Talismanic

I've held onto this cover ever since I tore it off in 1986. Reasons why:

1. Probably due to growing up in the "duck and cover" era, I had a recurring nightmare. I would be playing in our back yard and, just in the knick of time, spot a pterodactyl swooping down to grab me. I'd run to the other end of yard and slide into the crawl-space opening just before the massive claws could latch on. Huddled in the dark, I dodged the beak and claws for as long as it took.

2. Eddie drove a faded blue '49 or '50 Chevy pickup whose shape and color and mom-&-eddie-ness I always wanted to draw.

3. Roger Zelazny was my first science-fiction crush. Timmy turned me on to "The Chronicles of Amber" series. I use the vernacular because Timmy and I spent a whole 20-something summer of evenings smoking marijuana, talking sci-fi and listening to the Chi-lites and Stylistics.

4. This could be the cover of my autobiography.

Roadmarks published in paper, 1986 . Cover art by Darrell K. Sweet

Mom

This is me with my grandmother. She was named Marguerite. Her lodge sisters called her that. In-laws and friends called her Marge. Of course, my mom, uncle and aunt called her Mom. I thought that was her name, so I called her "Mom" too. I recall, at first, confusion and, later, a huffy shrug when a relative would suggest I call her "grandma" or some such. Mom and I were both happy with my choice. I know she loved being a grandmother, but she didn't mind not having to be called that.

Log Trucks

My grandfather, Eddie was born in 1905 in North Bend, WA. In 1924, the Long-Bell mill opened in Longview, WA and was the largest lumber producer in the world. Weyerhaeuser opened a mill of its own in 1929 and became the area's largest employer. Logging was big business in the state. Eddie was a logger, log truck driver and mechanic when there were still plenty of gigantic logs.



This truck (TN 317) is a Ford built around 1936, and it has seen a lot of wear, so he might be in his late 30s here.

7/27: Mill start-dates corrected using columbiariverimages.com

Pick a pocket

Shirt pockets were essential gear for my grandfathers. John's were wool packed tight with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Eddie's pockets were chambray homes for a pencil, a pack of Beeman's gum and what-not. Herb's gabardine pockets would have been tidily buttoned shut with no contents to destroy the profile.


1947 Montgomery Ward Catalog. Flickr: Archival Clothing

Piece de Resistance

"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental..."
 
In the 1950's sense of "continental" meaning foreign in a romantic way, Uncle Lawrence was as close to continental as one got in our town. But, I didn't get it. I didn't realize those shiny suits were Italian style. I thought he just didn't have very good taste. I remember vividly when he showed up wearing the first pair of wrap-around sunglasses I'd ever seen. Déclassé! After having lived in a partially-completed house that never got beyond tar-paper siding, he built a monumental A-frame and poured its terrazzo floors himself. Terrazzo, sperrazzo! And, there was the Citroen. Evidently, one of the first imported into Washington state. Gads! 

Need I say, it all makes sense now?

My Loss Is Your Gain

I think it might be time to get myself a car for weekend chores and such. Tricky because I don't want to spend more than $2500. So, I'll be reading each of the ads on Craigslist and hoping one of the "grandpa's car" or "my loss is your gain" ads will reveal the car for me. From last weekend's search, I'm starting to get a feel for what's out there:

"I am the second owner. The wonderful lady I bought it from kept it garaged and only drove it once a week to the grocery store."

"i have a 1990 suburban that i need to sell to get my husband out of jail"

"Gave it to my 19 year old former step son and he messed up the body and interior and now he doesn't want it. I am sorry but he took the stereo, still has new speakers."

"If you want reliable economical and classic transportation for decades to come, this car is for you. If you're looking for blistering acceleration and Porsche like speed you will be disappointed."

"This will not get you status on the block, but it will get nods from other people when they see you driving down the street because they know you are keeping it real." 


Me saying "Jeepers!" in front of Mom and Eddie's '56 Dodge

The Egyptian Trail

When Ella Munch, my great-grandmother's cousin, moved out to Tacoma to live, she came by car along auto trails, starting in Illinois on the Egyptian Trail. Auto trails were just dirt roads with painted stones and marked posts pointing the way. Ella told me it was slow going and there were constant flat tires. She didn't elaborate. Ella was kinda quiet, like me.

More Loquacious Accounts

"Before the Interstates in 1956, before the coming of the US Highways in 1926, there were the Auto Trails. These routes were designated with names—sometimes fanciful, oftentimes utilitarian or descriptive—and marked with colored bands on telephone and electric poles. According to some sources, the first Auto Trail had its beginning in 1911 in Iowa and spread rapidly from there. Within only a few years, the proliferation of "marked" highways was reaching crisis proportions. Countless automobile clubs, tire companies, oil companies and tourist associations erected signs along randomly-chosen routes. Sometimes these routes would veer far from the best or most direct path only to pass through a city which paid a fee to have the marked route run though the center of town."   www.michiganhighways.org

"When the first autos came to Kimnundy there were no roads except dirt ones. After the fall rains started, you put your car up on wooden jacks in the garage (it was still called the barn) and you left it there till next summer. Dr. Miller and Dr. Camerer each had cars about 1912, the kind you cranked. These models had acetylene lamps which had to be lit with a match at dusk. It was a long trip to Centralia and a real journey to St. Louis, and Chicago. There were no marked routes and it was easy to loose your way in strange territory. Then two men in a buggy came along one day. down the road from Effingham and painted black and orange triangles on every other telephone pole. This marked the Egyptian trail which became Route 37 in 1931." 

www.archive.org/stream/kinmundyrailwayt00kinm/kinmundyrailwayt00kinm_djvu.txt

My First Car

That must be my cousin Frankie sitting in my brand new, light blue pedal car. I put a lot of miles on that beauty, round and round on Mom & Eddie's driveway. This photo makes us look like film noir cheats and petty criminals. In truth, my mother's family were farmers, truck drivers, loggers, mechanics and homemakers. That's my great-great grandfather, Pop, in the rocking chair. He lived in my great-grandmother's house in Sumner. His room was behind a set of etched glass doors and he never came out when we were there. Sure, he could have been away on Don and Diane's Fun Tours those weekends, but I'm sure he was in there reading magazines and nibbling on a stash of snacks and beverages until the coast was clear. I can relate.

Ramblers Anonymous

My dad's parents, were partial to Nash Ramblers. Stout and sturdy styling, but such unusual colors. More like appliance colors (Lake Shore Blue, Mariner Turquoise, Autumn Yellow, Mardi Gras Red, Georgian Rose). No doubt because Nash and the Kelvinator appliance business were part of the same company.

“There must’ve been one car dealer in all of Metropolis, because everyone drove a Nash. Lois Lane had a Nash Rambler. Clark Kent drove a Nash-Healey sports car. For a good chunk of ‘Superman,’ you saw nothing but Nashes.”

From Auto Ego, New York Times, March 4, 2010