Modern Vespa

I was SO dumb, about 17 when I borrowed my 18 yo buddy's spiffy '55 Mercury hardtop to take new girl out when my older ugly car was laid up.

I was so appreciative and had a great time, so I filled up the gas a full tank, after it only had half when I got it. Thanks, buddy!

So he has a road trip to Portland and is amazed at his wonderful gas mileage, gauge going down so slow... until he ran out of gas still reading half a tank! I was so ignorant that I plugged the tank vent to be helpful when it started 'leaking' when I filled it up. .

Fortunately he was pretty sharp and had a good sense of humor. He used the free in those days compressed air to gently 'inflate' his tank and warned me that if it leaked I'd be under it replacing it with the new one I'd be buying. Also the first time he told me that I was the only one he knew who could probably f*ck up a solid steel ball.

Taos, NM about 1989 I was leaving my friends at their earthship community, spent the week in the linked photo, as I was driving out of that valley, half way up the road.
Covered in about a foot of snow, in a 1965 VW Westfalia.
About 20 miles an hour, slowly losing forward progress until about halfway, it stopped and slid backwards. Two lane road about 6 degrees ascension. No barriers.
With a hill on one side and a crevasse on the other.
To this day, I don't know how I maneuvered the vehicle so precisely, that I managed to get it turned around and headed down hill.
Leaving at a later date when it was passable. That adventure had so much weirdness aside from this experience, the Taos Peublo, and other roads where I could go no farther,

https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/homeowners-sam-bascom-mel-christenson-posing-w-pet-dog-at-news-photo/50587225

This was post navy, idk if qualified as youth

I simply cannot claim to have learned that much driving like an idiot in wet leaves on public streets as a youth

A friend of my older brother had a vintage Vespa, then when that died, I guess, he got a real mini. I have desired small cars and scooters ever since.

[Edited for past tense]

I helped my older brother rebuild our old riding mower that had been laid up for several years. We had grown weary of cutting our 1 acre lot with a 20" push mower. He was 14 and I was 9 and had never rebuilt a motor.

We got it running and smoothed out the idle. My brother decided to go 1st and started cutting the yard. About 15 minutes after he started, the engine sputtered and then "KABOOM"! The engine had relieved itself of the piston, which exited about 2" from my brother's leg.

Veloce,

I'm reminded of driving in Montana in winter. I had my dad's old '62 Plymouth at the time. First encounter with snow I was coming over the pass between Billings and Bozeman in early December on the interstate, starting to snow and I was a bit surprised to see semis pulling over to put on their chains. Now I'd grown up in Wisconsin and thought I knew driving in snow, but hadn't seen chains on vehicles other than our tractors. I had to get back to my dorm so forged ahead, but swore my back didn't touch the seat until I was on level ground.

Returned a couple of years later to cross country ski with some friends, heading up north of Bozeman and the road was so icy I slowed to a stop near the top of a hill, and started sliding toward the ditch just from the camber of the road. Stopped on the shoulder, and somehow managed to get out of that, but it was interesting.

Actually, earlier than that, same car, I'm still in Wisconsin, fresh snow and doing donuts in an empty parking lot at college. It was all fun and games until I caught sight of a cement pillar holding up a light post from the corner of my eye whizzing past. I was having so much fun I thought they weren't there....

Did Julius of Los Gatos ever move to Russia? Sold him a fender light bike in white for $200 picked on Santa Clara trash day, at least it went into good hands. I had three reliable scoots at the time, and all of them road in the most glorious rally, in that valley.
Estimated 900 scoots killing mosquitoes that morning until San Jose PD pulled us all over into a Mall parking lot, quickly I and my two friends dug out before we were penned in. None of my bikes were actually legal. I think that's what kept them running.

I'll never forget the ad in the mercury news, " Vespa desperately seeking Vulture for repair" Luckily if we have luck we survive our youth, no doubt.

In High School, I was out with my girl friend in my Mom's 1960 Ford Falcon. We were rear ended while stopped at a light. This small Ford Falcon was one of the first unitized bodies (No standard steel rail frames). The impact collapsed the entire car up to the back seat.

I could not believe it. When I got out of the car and looked at it. The vehicle was 1/3rd shorter. Obviously a total loss. The redeeming thing, the collapsing unitized body absorbed most of the impact. We were slightly sore, but over all not injured.

That Falcon was a death trap - side collision - you would be dead. Remember, most vehicles back in 1960 were still big old heavy monsters.

Bob Copeland

Using CL as photo hosting, this one is about 2 miles from me and totally a great candidate to get arrested in, mucho drama. 327 ready to go.

I'm still young at heart. Abandoned from said drama

https://acapulco.craigslist.org/zip/d/ford-falcon/7803264875.html

Something about that front end alignment looks off.

I owned a '64 Falcon four door, three-on-the-tree. I loved that car and its terminally oxidized red paint.

Yeah, it was definitely a fly by night drop off to rid themselves of the drama, and the spot is within FAA territory so… attention to detail was get out quick. Normally it this neck of the pacific that beast would be picked clean by the vultures, but not there. This is going cleanly to the impound lot, where someone is probably going to get a clean title out of the deal. I grabbed a single washer out of the open trunk, for the memento. We used to have a pretty decent auction here, I had to have proxy bidders because everyone knows me here and knows my abilities.

I was staying with my grandmother one summer. She was an exec at Wright Patterson A.F base. She owned a wide track Pontiac Bonneville .
One day she put me behind the wheel for a drive in the countryside. I didn't hit anything during those 20 mins.
The next Saturday morning she tossed me the keys, " go up to the farm and get us some eggs."
I got that baby airborne over a culvert coming home. Way too fast! Scared a year off my life.
I was 12 before that drive!

O.S.

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My dad's frugality was topped only by his dad's, and instead of a proper pickup truck for the farm, he'd buy an old fixer-upper, which, I suppose was quite suitable for tasks such as putting a young pig in the trunk for a ride to the vets...

Anyway, I had a task requiring a trailer, which he also had. I borrowed it one day, and as it had the luxury of a V-8 under the hood, I thought I'd test it out at a stop sign in the countryside. Foot to the floor, engine revved, car didn't move.

I can't recall him getting upset about it, though I may have missed a few details in my story.

When I was a lad, I was riding in the backseat of my grandfather's car when he ran over a live wire that had fallen across the road.

I do not remember the specifics, but there was a loud bang, a lot smoke, and the car immediately became inoperable.

I recall a shirtless guy with a big belly, who lived in the house adjacent to the downed wire waving and yelling. He helped us get out of the car. His wife telephoned for help!

I remember getting to go into their house which I had always been curious about 'what it was like inside' every time I dove past.

I'll have to ask my mom about the specifics as I had completely forgotten about the ordeal. The whole thing was electrifying, that's for sure.

This isn't my story, but Mrs Syd's. Her parents owned a Buick Riviera with an early cruise control. She said the cruise wouldn't just keep a speed, but if set a a stop, would get to set speed as quickly as possible. Fun ensued.

I had an orange 1953 Henry J, with a 383 mopar engine sitting so far back the header would burn your leg if you weren't careful. There was nothing covering the engine, and you could look down and see the ground. It was a drag car, with large slicks in back and skinny front tires on a straight axle in front. The headers went to glasspacks, and it was loud. The car did wheelies. I was only 15, so I wasn't really supposed to be driving it, mainly because I didn't have a license, nor should it have been on the road, because there was nothing about that car that was remotely street legal. We lived on a circle in Ojai, CA, and when my parents weren't home, I would occasionally take it for a couple of quick turns around the circle, then park and hide and wait to see if the police had been called. About 180 degrees around the circle from our house lived a judge. He was the one who usually called the police. He seemed more irate than usual the day I accidently ran over his dog. That was pretty much the end of my adventures with the Henry J.