1956 Dodge Texan

In 1956 mom and dad bought a new (demonstrator), red and white, 4 door Dodge Texan. We kept the Plymouth for a while - parking it in the side yard.

This is me at 14 with the Texan. This is the car I learned to drive in. Notice the Lamar sticker in the rear window. This is a souvenir of Dad’s college experience. Notice Terry photobombing in the rear window. Finally look at my church stuff on the rear fender. From that and my dress I infer that this is a post church photo in 1960.

This car had a small block V8 displacing 270 cubic inches. It was the first car we had with an automatic transmission. Chrysler’s two speed TorqueFlite transmission was controlled by pushbuttons on the left side of the dash.

I think it is intensely stupid that we have tremendous levers to control automatic transmissions rather than simple push buttons. This was a winner that went away because of governmental interference.

It was, unfortunately, not equipped with an air conditioner…most cars of that era were not.

On the test drive I sat in the back and the car salesman showed how the transmission could be shifted between D and R at low speed - back and forth, back and forth. He was a member of our church and actually led the Bowie Jr High School marching band - I can see his face but do not remember his name.

I learned to drive in this car and was allowed, at 14, to drive to my job at Tyrrell Public Library on occasion.

One Sunday afternoon we were visiting the Morgans (Uncle Harold, Aunt Lois - dad’s sister, Randy and Becky) on the south side of town. Dad’s other sister Aunt Hazel Hart and her family were also there. Dad sent me to the 7-11 for ice. I had Nancy Hart and Randy with me on the trip. I was showing off by doing full throttle shifts into gear to squeal the tires.

I went across an intersection that had steep downslope onto the cross street followed by a steep rise onto the continued street. I bottomed out on the steep rise and punched a hole in the oil pan! I did not realize it at the time and continued the errand.

By the time we reached the 7-11, then engine was running hot and as we got the ice, oil (the lifeblood of the engine) was draining onto the concrete. I had ruined the super car that I loved.

Dad was not happy. That bears repeating: Dad was not happy. It shows what amazing personal control he had that I am alive to write about this incident. He actually put a clay patch over the hole in the oil pan, filled the oil pan with oil and got us home.

He traded the Dodge the next day for a beige Chrysler Newport.

I was NOT allowed to drive the Chrysler for a long time.

However, less than a month later I walked out of the library after finishing my shift. Dad was there to pick me up in a red and white ‘55 Ford Victoria. He had pulled money from my savings account and bought this used car for me to drive.

Not a photo of my car, but a close match,