The 1924 Chrysler

Sometimes it pays to be a packrat. I haven't found a good use for my first grade workbooks yet but I did find some stories I wrote in high school. I wrote this one when I was a junior (got an 'A' though probably not up to today's standards.

The 1924 Chrysler

Last night, I sat down with paper and pen to find out the story of my Dad's first car. Of course, Dad didn't have much to offer. But luckily, my great-uncle was visiting for the evening at our house. Pretty soon, I picked up a lot of odd bits ad Dad and Uncle Matt reminisced.

Dad got his first car about 1934 or 1935 when he was about twenty years old. At this time, his parents and family were still living on the farm on which we live. Dad spent his time working in Starrett's in town for ten dollars a week. But in order to buy his first car he had to "float a loan" from the bank. This wonder was a 1924 Chrysler and cost all of the amazing sum of thirty-five dollars.

As Dad described the car, the light lit up in his eyes. It was a big black square box on wheels. The spare time hung on the back of the car. Only the back wheels had brakes, leaving the front ones with none. The car had two cylinders, whatever and wherever they are. Dad explained that the car wouldn't start most of the time and he had to crank it. Then he jumped in before the car took off.

Now, this is all Dad really told me until he started talking to Uncle Matt. And half talking to me and half to my uncle, I learned the rest.

One summer, Dad, some of his brothers and some of his cousins, went to the Black Hills in Dad's Chrysler. As they rolled along, Dad's cousin, Bob O'Kane, wound the car up to forty-five miles per hour, and then a bull jumped into the path of the car! They couldn't stop, so they rode right up on the bull. Everyone piled out and helped the bull from under the car and then watched the poor creature run off.

But this was only one episode in the Chrysler's life. On the same trip, as they were coming down a steep and winding hill road, my Uncle John got the car in high and couldn't get it into low. Pretty soon the car was speeding down the hill at forty-five mile per hour. On each curve, everyone leaned in toward the hill because all there was on the other side was a thousand foot drop-off. John applied the brakes but that did no good. Finally, after two miles of dangerous riding, the car stopped at the bottom of the hill, but the brakes were on fire. John pulled the car into a gas station and asked if he could have some water to put the fire out. But the attendant said that water was expensive in those parts and he would have to sell them pop. So they put out the fire with eight bottles of pop at ten cents apiece.

The trip turned out fine, but at times it seemed impossible. They went 120 miles on the spare time with the red inner-tube showing. But it never blew out.

The Chrysler survived the trip and never wore out until my Dad's future bride (my mother) borrowed it for a day. The rod burnt out and started to pound. Mom didn't know what was wrong, so when people asked her, she said, "Wait, I'll start the car and you can see." Well, finally, the rod drove right out the side of the engine. Dad lost his car, but gained himself a wife. But I think Dad will remember the Chrysler forever.