To drive, or not to drive
The fuel shortage lingered following World War II but the ability to drive or own a car was a vital thing to look forward to after sacrificing for the war efforts.
Passing the driver’s test was the main goal. The second was finding our first ride!
Roadsters and coups from the ‘20s and ‘30s were the most desirable. The early ‘50s Mercury Ford and Chevys were even more so — but far too expensive for those with paper route and chore money.
A favorite uncle who worked in the auto industry told me he had found the perfect car for me: very low mileage, clean with no dents and a pristine interior. I was up for that.
Then I saw it. Pristine for sure. In fact, it had a star on it and the color was army green AG44. It was a four-door Dodge and had belonged to a general. No one owned a four-door! Not cool! But for $300 I became the owner of “the General.”
Friends laughed but the General’s selling point was the big back seat and a super smooth ride due to the lack of use and low mileage. A glaring flaw however was the high beam — it was always on. The switch on the floor by the clutch didn’t work. Night driving was hard as everyone flashed their high beams back constantly.
To remedy that and a few minor problems we drove with screwdrivers and pliers to Fritz Auto Wrecking — one of many wrecking yards on Aurora Avenue. The office attendant sent us off to try and find a Dodge amongst the many wrecks and to bring any parts back for pricing. We were in luck and good to go.
The demand for cars was increasing as those coming home from the war had back pay and needed transportation. Stores like Schucks Auto Supply on Seventh Avenue across from the Dog House restaurant sold everything from car styling to the means for amping engine efficiency and speed.
Friends in Madison Park would meet at one of the five gas stations and tinker with their cars. Another favorite spot was “The Woods” in Canterbury where we would meet on Saturdays to wax our cars. We’d stash some brews in the bushes but have plenty of Coke, 7 Up and root beer in sight in case the law came by. There was always someone close to 21 or who had fake ID who could buy beer at the Lake Shore Deli where Home Street Bank is now (Tully’s previously).
Of course we had to “lay rubber” and drop the clutch to show off, inspiring neighbors to call in noise complaints. One friend had a spindle on his dash for unpaid speeding tickets. Ah, youth!
The first Friday after owning the General, five friends and I chipped in for gas — had to at 19 cents a gallon! We gave the General a bath, vacuumed the inside and drove south from Madison Park on Lake Washington Boulevard to Leschi, which was then no more than a marina.
Seaborne Marina was one of two fuel stations on the lake and Keith Elrod, a Madison Parker at one time, owned the Shell station across the street as well as one in Madison Park. Nearby was a portable kiosk affair that sold fish and chips in the summer.
We turned uphill south of Leschi to the I-90 floating bridge and then east to Bellevue hoping it had more to offer than Madison Park — which, unfortunately, rolled up its sidewalks at 6 p.m.
After leaving the freeway we drove north through a forest on a narrow two-lane road with signs to watch out for farm animals. That was never a problem in our neighborhood. Sure enough, we came upon a cow taking up both lanes. We didn’t dare honk, we just maneuvered around the lumbering animal. Soon we saw a clearing with farms and abandoned old houses and finally ahead was Bellevue. Wow — a traffic light! But then darkness, we until passed a gas station and a dim light from a tavern.
We would not try to get into that tavern being only 16 and 17 years old—Nope, no taverns for maybe two years. Bellevue appeared to be closed. We turned around on Main Street and saw light in the distance. It was a drive-in restaurant!
Drive-in restaurants were the happening place for young men like us. One of our favorites close to Seattle’s city center was Johnnie Primerburgers , owned by my friend Mr. Lucarelli. It was the most popular of them all, located on Denny and Seventh — a street corner lost to the construction of I-5.
The customers at the Bellevue drive-in had brought many cool cars. Some were hot rods placarded for car clubs. We parked in the rear row where we could hear laughter directed at us but as soon as they noticed the star, they saluted. They knew the “G.”
In the service, when a car with a star came by, you had to salute. One time I was walking with two friends in the Army — I didn’t see the car with the star go by but I sure heard it stop! My friends saluted while I walked elsewhere. We all snapped to attention when a doctor came just inches from my face and said, “What do you do when an officer goes by?”
“Salute, Ma’am!” I answered. To make matters more embarrassing, she was young and very attractive. “You will remember, Corporal?” I answered looking straight into her eyes, “Yes, Ma’am!” She smiled and said “Carry on.” Never will I forget that encounter.
Every drive-in customer we met was curious about the General and asked to sit in it. We collected new friends by the dozen. Our maiden voyage was a success.
Some of the other cars were lowered, a feature achieved by cutting the coil springs in front and installing lowering blocks in the rear. This gave the car a low sleek look. Other cool touches were to remove decals and hood ornaments, but add accessories like fender skirts, white sidewalls, dual spotlights and dual exhausts.
Others chopped the top of their car clean off, leaving windows less than half their original size. Cars were now less than five feet high. All this seemed radical.
We heard of two brothers by the name of Barris in California who actually started the lowering fad. George and his brother Sam became famous for their chopped and channeled cars, and other custom shops in the auto industry paid attention. Soon new cars were coming out incorporating the fad.
My uncles called and offered me a deal I could not refuse. If I helped them they would paint the General with lacquer paint, apply three to four coats of midnight blue and sand it to a mirror finish. Weeks later it was buffed out. The “G” was proud.
That summer I delivered ice during the day and was a bellhop and waiter at night. I could afford to lower the General and add all the accessories my heart desired.
I’ve only owned nine cars in my life but the best memories are of the General and its great big bed back seat!
RICHARD LEHMAN is a
Madison Park resident.