memories #17                                                  The Fun of Having a V.W.                                                                                                                       

        After my father and I concluded the radio affair in the Studebaker, father bought a V W.  A strange car that V.W. The engine was located in the back and the trunk in the front.   Weird!  The nice thing about it was the front wheel drive.  That feature helped out in the ice and snow Durango accumulates during the winters.

     Once again my father laid down the rules for using the car.  They didn’t change from the rules for the Studebaker.

My adventures with the V.W.

     I was curious about this little German car.  Father was working on the engine early one fall weekend.  I stood by father watching him tinker with various engine parts.  I would ask questions and father would answer in short, gruff explanations.  He seemed bothered and unapproachable.  Finally he handed me a wrench told me to tighten down the spark plugs.  I began in ernest and tightened the first spark plug too much.  They spark plug broke and father’s temper rose with each word he spoke.  I backed away and father told me to go into our house.  My mechanical lessons started and ended with a spark plug.

     The novelty of the V.W. Serve as a catalyst for other families to purchase a little bug.  Someone came up with the idea of having VW drag races.  I think there were four of us that were willing to race the family car for the honor of being the best.  (Also a six pack of beer was involved). 

     The drag strip was a two block run,  that started on W. 3rd Ave. And ended just past W. 23rd St.  It wasn't long enough to even get up to the speed limit.  When it was my turn to race, I gripped the steering wheel with my left hand and gripped the stick shift with my right hand.  This was serious stuff.  We were rebels without a cause. (“Rebel Without a Cause”, James Dean: actor.)  

     It was funny watching  two little bugs race downhill and never get to the speed limit.  We were trying new techniques to get from one gear to the next quickly.  The term used was double clutch. There may have been a  gearboxes or two in the junkyard after these races.  The sound of gears grinding against each other was a cringing sound in the same category as fingernails on a chalkboard. 

     To my knowledge this was the only drag race with the little V.W.s.  No, I didn't win.  I didn't even finish the race.  My gearshift froze.  Embarrassing, yes.  With that experiment over, it was back to dragging Main Street.  My father never found out about this race.

     Getting around in Durango during the winter was quite a chore.  Downtown Main Street often had snow accumulation that the city couldn't keep up with.  Snow plows pushed the snow to the middle of the street.  The snow was transferred to dump trucks and taken to the river.  But some winters it snowed so much city couldn't keep up.  The middle of Main Street continued to grow into a giant snow fence between the driving lanes as the city snowplows continue to keep the driving lanes open.  Coming down from E. 2nd St. to main street was a challenge.  It is downhill and on icy roads, strange things happened.  Cars would  start sliding,  lose control and end up on the sidewalks or cause fender damage to other cars.

   eekends were once again date nights or time with buddies. On a really cold January or February night, I had a date for a  school dance.  It had snowed early in the week, then slightly melted then froze again.  That meant some really serious, icy road conditions.  The dance was at the Elks Lodge.  The Elks Lodge side entrance was between E. 2nd Ave.. and Main Street.  I had parked the V.W. on second Ave.

    When the dance ended it was time to take my date home.  She lived way out in North Durango around the 32nd St. bridge.  It was dark and cold and hardly any other cars were on the street.  Going north on Main Street at about W. 24th St continuing on to W. 32nd St. Main Street undergoes a curious transformation.  From the middle of the street, each side slopes downward.  Ordinarily, this was no problem.  But the streets were extremely icy.  I put the bug in the middle of the street and navigated as best as I could.  As long as there were no other cars I was okay.

     Try as I may, I couldn't keep the little bug in the middle of the road.  I begin to lose control as the bug started to slide to the side of the road.  We were taught to turn your wheels to the direction of the slide.  That usually brings back control to the driver.  But the way the road was constructed turning the wheels to the direction of the slide didn't work.  The little bug now began to spin toward the side of the road.  It felt like a carnival ride called, “Tilt o Wheel”.  I probably made three or four full 360° spins.  When the car finally came to a stop, it was inches away from the front porch of a  Durango citizen.  He may have been one of the citizens that I had protected in my early youth while playing in the hills around Durango. A man opened the door.

      I wasn't sure what this man was going to do. I got out the car and met the man face-to-face.  He stared the car for a long time.  I started to speak but he held up his hand for me to be quiet.  “That's one of those funny cars they call a bug, isn't it?”

     “Yes sir, it is.” I answered.

     “Well, how did it manage to crawl to my front porch?” he asked.  “Maybe we should put it out of it’s misery.”  He turned and went back into his house.

     Not knowing what to do next, I waited for the man to return.  A few moments later he reappeared wearing a coat and gloves.

     “Now let's get this creature back on the road,” he said.  The three of us got the little car back  on the road.  I took my date to her house and drove back home without any further incidents.  

     Springtime in Durango meant a variety of weather conditions.  It also meant the opening of the drive-in theater south of Durango called the Rocket.  On the weekends most of the high school population drifted south to the Rocket Drive in.  Heads were counted at the ticket booth for the admission to the theater by the number of passengers in the car.  That meant stowaways, usually in the trunk.  

the drive in theatre

     On a weekend, after listening to my father's instructions, I picked up three friends and headed to the Rocket.  All kinds of things can happen  when four boys get together.   Beer was produced, 3.2 % variety, and we settled in for the show.  Sometimes really stupid stuff happens.  Two of my friends smoked and a game was played.   When everyone had a cigarette the windows were rolled up and we filled the bug with cigarette smoke.  The winner was the last to vacate the car.  I can imagine how our clothes smelled when we returned home.  

     The four of us, Mike McDonald, Lenny Turner, Pat Callahan and yours truly sat through a double feature.  Sometimes distractions from other cars turned our heads away from the movie.  The distractions varied from two guys getting out of a car and having a fist fight, someone who had drunk too much beer and emptied their consumption next to their car, a girl carrying her bra to the concession stand and always one or two cars so steamed up no one could see in or out.

     When the movies ended and we were out of beer, we headed  back into town.  I was driving, Mike was next to me and Lenny and Pat were in the back. Lenny and Pat begin to wrestle in the backseat.  As we entered Durango going down sixth street, Pat had Lenny pinned down on the backseat.  The little bug was rocking from side to side.  Using his feet and legs, Lenny pushed Pat off.  Pat’s rear end hit the rear side window.  The oval-shaped window popped out of it’s space and free of it's confinement.

     I watched in horror as the glass tumbled on the pavement.  I could hear my father with every bounce the glass took.  The glass finally finished it’s gymnastics routine and came to rest on the side of the road.  I immediately started to go around the block to pick up the window.  

     “it's Pat’s fault.” declared Lenny

     “No it's not.”said Pat.  

     “You should have pushed a little harder Lenny” Mike declared.  “Then his butt might have gotten stuck in the window space.”

    “Shut up Mike,” shouted Pat!.

     “Then we could drag main street in Mickey’s Moon Mobile.” laughed Mike.

     Meanwhile I circled around the block.  I stopped by the glass and Lenny picked it up.

     “Now what?” asked Pat.  

     “Lets find a place to stop and try to pop it back in place.” Mike said.

     We headed west out of town stopping at a restaurant’s parking lot out of the way of traffic.  We worked at getting the window back in it’s secure home for a long time.  It just wouldn’t slip back in.  I knew it was past time for me to be home and my father would be looking for me soon.  Just as we got the window back in place, my father drove up in my aunt’s car.

     “What happened son?” asked my father.  

     At this point telling the truth seemed like the most logical thing to do.  I blurted out the story.  Mike, Lenny, and Pat quickly telling my father it wasn’t my fault.  

     My father raised an eyebrow, something he did when he was either angry or thinking.  “Take these boys home.” my father said, “And you come straight home.”

    I did as my father requested and drove home.  I took a deep breath and walked into the house.  It was totally dark and I could hear my father snoring in his bed room.  I went straight to bed.  

     Nothing was said of the affair again.  I guess my father thought I had learned a lesson.