Gene’s family was a Chevy family. Mine preferred Ford. The big news of the car industry during the 50’s was “what new styles” would grace our roadways. Gene thought Chevy was best while I rooted for Ford. These preferences were developed in large part because that is what each family owned. Cars from the 50’s and 60’s had great design. Big engines, tailfins, exotic tail light configurations, unique paint jobs, and lots of chrome made each brand truly unique.
My dad bought a brand new 1953 Ford Customline two door, black, sedan and was very excited about his “new ride”. Dad picked up his new car one evening after work and it was late when he got home. He drove it directly into the garage for safe keeping. The following morning he urged my mom to watch him back the new car out as he headed for work.
As he backed out of the garage, he sided swiped the car on the house, pulling off all of the driver’s side chrome accessories. Oops. He got it fixed, but new wasn’t new anymore. I expect that he had fewer than twenty miles on the car when this happened. The 53 Ford was the car that mom used to learn how to drive. (I guess my dad figured it had already been damaged so she might as well use it as her training vehicle.)
Four years later he traded in the 53 for a 1957 Ford Fairlane 500. It was two door, two-tone black and white. Very stylist. Both the 53 and 57 cars had two doors because my parents didn’t want their kids opening the doors and falling out while we were driving down the road. Four doors just invited such a calamity. (We had, in fact, witnessed such an occurrence on one of our family rides to visit some cousins. A girl fell out of the car in front of us and my dad was the first to stop to help her. She lived but was bruised and battered.)
My mom and dad, two sisters, Gene and I were at Stark Hickey Ford in Royal Oak when my parents picked out the car. My mom was driving now. They picked all of the components of the car and placed the order based upon dad’s selection of style and power and mom’s selection of color.
After car shopping the six of us went out for lunch at a restaurant across Woodward from the car dealer. Going “out” for lunch was a big deal. The two girls were taking their time with their lunch and dad wanted them to “hurry up”. As the meal was drawing to a close, dad asked mom for money to pay the bill. She didn’t have any. Dad didn’t either. My quick thinking father directed everyone to “slow down, start drinking water”. So we did.
They quickly decided that mom would drive home to get some money. It was about a three mile drive. While she was gone I decided to go out on the street to panhandle for the necessary funds. There was a lot of foot traffic on Woodward and figured that no one could resist the appeal of a “just turned eleven year old”, adorable young lad like me. I never made it out of the restaurant. I walked directly into the plate-glass window of the recently cleaned side panel rather than push the door open like I should. I smacked my head on the glass and returned to my seat to secure ice from our water glasses to help sooth my damaged forehead and ego.
Mom returned more quickly than expected because she stopped at a local furniture store where one of our neighbors, Mr. Conti, worked. She borrowed the necessary funds and paid the bill. After several trips to the bathroom, we returned home.
That was the first, last, and only time that I went with my parents to purchase a car.
