I learned to drive in this car and was allowed, at 14, to dr

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.