Been doing some car shopping, first half-heartedly, now a little more seriously, and that has made me think about my first car.
A 1963 Pontiac Tempest with the shift knob on the dash. A spiffy, babe-magnet for sure. Or a puddle-jumper, as my dad used to call it. It was a fine car, for its time, except for the fact that it would not start if you failed to put it in the garage and left it out in the rain overnight. The cause of that was purportedly a bad distributor cap, but all attempted fixes were to no avail.
Soon I graduated to a ’72 Ford Torino, which was pretty smooth at the time.
But the Tempest lives on in my heart.
A 1963 Pontiac Tempest with the shift knob on the dash. A spiffy, babe-magnet for sure. Or a puddle-jumper, as my dad used to call it. It was a fine car, for its time, except for the fact that it would not start if you failed to put it in the garage and left it out in the rain overnight. The cause of that was purportedly a bad distributor cap, but all attempted fixes were to no avail.
Soon I graduated to a ’72 Ford Torino, which was pretty smooth at the time.
But the Tempest lives on in my heart.
(note: Unfortunately, I have no acutal photos of the Tempest, so the photo is a similar model I found on the Web. My car might have been a shade lighter in color, but that is pretty much how I remember it.)
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