by William Knowles

Created on: May 02, 2008

You Are What You Drive?

Now, that is one of the funniest statements I have ever heard through my lifetime!

From the time I was a young fella, before I could even apply for a driver's license, I have had my eye on several machines. From the little box of a '65 Austin Mini, to the cool lines of a Yamaha Chopper (long forks and High rise handlebars) I have drooled and dreamed about bombing down the road. Mr. Cool behind the wheel (or handlebars).

Of course, when I finally turned of age, I was subject to the humiliation of a 1973 Plymouth Cricket (Which my Mother owned)! I found out at that early age, that it wasn't the car that made you Mr. Cool. Hey, you got your driver's license! Everything you could get your hands on was cool to drive. Back then Five bucks and a little 4 banger engine took you along Forever! Which was good because you only made $2.50 an hour.

After getting the Cricket stuck between a couple of trees, while trying to follow a cattle trail around the back roads of Merritt B.C. (I thought it was an old logging road) And putting Mom's car in the ditch, she came to the conclusion that it might be easier on her car, and nerves, if she helped me buy my own rubber-mounted Steed.

So we went shopping and picked up a 1967 Pontiac Laurentian 4 door, for $120, and I was in all my glory. A little fixing up, flex pipe for an exhaust, 2 switches on the dash on each side of the steering wheel for signal lights (Hit 'em both and you had Hazard lights), a gallon of oil and a quart of gas - You were King of the Valley (and Mountains)! However, my ride was destined to last only a year and a half, as the flex pipe didn't handle the motorcycle tracks very well, and the RC MP had this silly notion that I should fix it because it was noisy. Heck, we never even noticed the noise over the sound of the Guess Who blaring out of my little under-dash 8 track! The Cops also had the idea that my racing slicks were in reality bald tires? I could only borrow a set from my buddy so many times before they got wise to that idea. That and a cloud of smoke trailing behind me prompted me to park the ol' gal, until I could afford to buy a few small things to fix her up (Like a new engine, tranny, and of course - tires).

Sadly, the old gal got parted out after awhile, and headed for the Orient, to bring out a new generation of Datsuns and Toyotas. Undeterred, I was working in a sawmill for awhile, and put enough away to buy myself a 1965 Chrysler 300 for $600 bucks, all power and a

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