Getting Gassed
Back in 1942 Oldsmobile was bragging up its new automatic drive in their Desoto; two years later the Desoto factory was making nothing but ‘war goods for our fighting men.’ Good on ya, Oldsmobile.
My two childhood memories of the family car were humpbacked and sort of ugly, painted black or something close and whether it was an automatic or manual shift – no idea. I’m not sure which event happened first or even if it was the same car both times, but I’ll start with the thunderstorm. I was in the car, parked in our back yard, with two of my sisters. Not sure why, probably because it was something new and very likely would get us in trouble when – it was never if – our mother found out.
Maybe we climbed in out of the rain, a real prairie gully washer that quickly became hail hammering on the roof like King Kong’s fists. . . . contd.
