My very first car was a 1969 Chevrolet Caprice. It was big and blue and at the time I wasn’t impressed with its looks, but now I can see just how beautiful it was.
Unfortunately, it had a starter problem. It wouldn't do it all the time, but once in a while when I turned the key it would make an awful whining noise. It was very loud and sounded like a turbine engine winding down. Someone showed me how to short out the starter with a screwdriver and that became the go to any time it acted up. I used to give my friend Gary a ride to high school every day so we worked out a system. The screwdriver was kept in the glove box and when the starter made the noise I would pop the hood and he would jump out with the screwdriver to short it out. He actually got pretty fast at it.
One day after baseball practice Gary and I were walking out to my car. For some reason the marching band had been practicing in the parking lot and the whole band just happened to be receiving instructions from the director right in front of my Caprice. They reluctantly moved aside, we waded through them to my car and I sat down in the driver’s seat. I said a silent prayer that the starter would work, but my stomach knotted up as I turned the key and heard the old familiar whine. This time, however, it seemed even louder than ever. The director stopped giving instructions and every member of the band looked in our direction to see what was causing the awful sound. Some of them started laughing and I felt my face flush red. I looked over at Gary. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed the screwdriver, jumped out to do his job and before long the engine came to life. Gary slammed down the hood and jumped back in as quickly as he could, but by now the entire marching band was laughing at us - even the director got in on it.
Still feeling embarrassed I decided to show them just what my car was made of. It had a Chevy 396 engine with a 4-barrel carburetor so when I made it to the long stretch of road that runs in front of the parking lot I pushed the pedal to the metal as hard as I could. The engine roared, the tires squealed and the whole band turned my way as I sped past them. 10 mph… 20 mph… 30 mph…. The engine was humming and a sweet wave of satisfaction began to build inside of me. 35 mph… 40 mph… “Laugh at me now band geeks!”
Then, the unthinkable happened. At the peak of my triumphant moment the hood of the car flew up in my face! The sweet wave of satisfaction was quickly replaced with a complete and total fear for my life. I somehow managed to maintain control and get to the side of the road, pulling far enough away from the parking lot so the band could no longer see me. After the adrenaline started to wear off we got out to survey the situation. The hood was up against the windshield, but thankfully the glass was still in tact. We pulled it back down, but it was too bent to latch into place. I managed to tie it down with something and slowly made my way home like the proverbial dog with its tail tucked between its legs. A few days later I found a replacement hood at a junkyard. The only problem was that it was white. I didn’t care though. The embarrassment of driving a blue car with a white hood didn’t even come close to what happened on that stretch of road in front of the marching band.
Yes, my husband loved his caprice classic. Great story!
Oh boy!! This made me laugh, having been a former band geek I could see the whole thing!! Oh, the escapades of youth…😉