Life Clip Number Five: The Valiant Rolls

I sold the 1953 "little red Ford" pickup and bought a 1953 Ford four-door from a neighbor. I didn't like this vehicle nearly as well as the little red Ford. If I remember right, when I got up to sixty miles-per-hour oil smoke floated into the interior of the car. I didn't keep that jalopy very long.

I purchase a Chevy, a 1965 or 1966. The engine sounded good but the transmission was shot. I thought I could throw in another gearbox and be happily driving down the road. A mechanic friend told me I'd spend more than the automobile was worth to fix it. So I sold the thing at a twenty-five percent loss.

Then came the 1965 Plymouth Valiant. I can't remember if my dad or my uncle co-signed for the $500 purchase price, but I got the loan and became a proud owner of a used Plymouth. This car had a 225 cubic inch slant six. Pretty cool. An engine that looked like a V-12 chopped in half. The concept was more power than a six cylinder that sat straight up and down. Why more power? My best guess is because less energy was used to push the piston to the top of the cylinders since they didn't have to go straight up. It's time for me to get on with this "life clip."

One Saturday night my brother, Steve, and I decided to go into Spokane to see a movie. We ended up at a drive-in theater called "Auto-Vue." The Graduate and Goodbye, Columbus were showing. Eye opening movies for two youths from the country. Did those sort of things really go on in the big cities? Would a young man's girlfriend's mother seduce her daughter's boyfriend in order to hold it against him to keep him from marrying her daughter? Shame on you, Mrs. Robinson.

After the movies we went to the Steer-Inn, a local fast food restaurant, and got hamburgers, fries and Pepsis. We ate and started the drive home. The topic of our conversation? How the girl in Goodbye, Columbus could be so dumb to hide her diaphragm in her dresser drawer where her mother found it. Were all city girls that stupid?

The pitch black night hid everything that wasn't in my headlights' illumination. A mile outside of Spokane the two lane highway took a long curve. Shortly after I entered the curve a reflection from something flashed at me. I whipped the steering wheel and drove into the oncoming lane missing the object. I jerked the wheel back to the right to bring the car into the proper lane. I went too far. The front tire hit a little water drainage ditch along side the road. My Plymouth spun around. Skidded backward across the highway. Down over an embankment and tipped over on it's top.

"Are you all right?" I asked Steve.

"I think so."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, let's get out of here," he said.

We crawled out the windows and heard feet pounding on the pavement. Five guys came tearing down the road and over the embankment to where we were. "Is anyone hurt?" one asked.

"No, we're fine," I said. "Will you help us tip my car back on its wheels?" I felt the vehicle needed to be upright.

We all pushed the car over.

"We thought for sure there was no way you were going to miss us," one of the guys said. "We all hit the floorboards and braced for the worst."

"What were you doing?" I asked.

"We were making a U-turn and the car died. So we shut the lights off to try to get it started."

About that time a State Patrol car showed up, lights flashing. The officer came down the embankment and asked if everyone was okay. I told him we were. Then he wanted to know if my vehicle landed where it was. I told him we tipped my Valiant right side up. He asked how much damage there was.

"The top's dented in and the driver's side window is gone," I told the officer.

"Is it drivable?" he asked.

"I think so if it will start." I jumped in and turned the key. She fired up on the first crank over.

"Do you need a tow truck?" the policeman asked.

"No, I think I can drive up that trail over there onto the side road," I told the cop.

"Try it and wait for me when you get there," he said.

My brother jumped into the car and I had it on the side road in a matter of minutes. The patrolman showed up shortly. "Tell me what happened," he said.

I told him.

"I'm giving the driver of the other vehicle a ticket," he said. "I suggest you get his address so he can pay for the damages."

I got all the information from the other driver and we headed for home. We hadn't traveled far when I said to my brother, "I'm freezing. I wished this window didn't get broke out."

"Why don't you try rolling it up?" Steve asked.

I thought he must had hit his head and now he was delirious. What good would it do to roll up a missing window? But I reached for the crank and, to my amazement, the window was intact. I didn't remember rolling it down, but I must have to get out. All in all, my little Valiant took the rollover quite nicely.

A few days later I got an estimate and sent it to the driver of the other car. A week after that I received a check from the kid's dad. I drove that Plymouth for several years after the accident.

I never did get the roof fixed.