A
Car Story
by Tobias T. Car
Hi, my name is Tobias. I’m a 1938 Chevrolet Cabriolet. You can call me
Toby for short. I was born – er, assembled in Oakland, California on March
15, 1938. I’m a Wednesday’s Child, by the way, not one of those
Monday or Friday disasters! You know -- workers hung over from the weekend or
worn out by the weekend.
All of us cabriolets (I have 2,299 brothers and sisters), got the Master Deluxe
treatment. No leaky knee-action shocks for us! We have straight axels, radios,
continental spare tire carriers, and Art Deco fender lights. And, if I may say
so, I was painted the prettiest color of the year – Indian Suntan. Oh,
I was gorgeous and my new owner drove me around sunny California with my top
down and pedal to the floor. We had a great life – nightclubs, picnics,
sporting events. After all, I am the sporty type, not one of the working class
models. Why I even have a rumble seat! Hey, I remember a double date the night
of May 20, 1938, oops, I better save that for another time.
In 1941 my owner joined the Army and reluctantly sold me. I soon became passed
around from owner to owner like a poor stepchild. They used and abused me. My
paint and upholstery became shabby and torn. But I did my part for the war effort.
I received a gas ration sticker for my right windshield and took my new owner,
Fay, to the aircraft assembly plant faithfully until VJ Day.
During the early ‘50’s, my teenage years were spent in the ownership
of a man who painted me black — ugh! — and even painted my running
boards white! Can you believe it? He could not afford new white wall tires so
he purchased a set of those phony snap-on white spats, oh well.
In 1960 he drove me to Oregon and sold me to a car lot in Salem, where I sat
in the back row looking forlorn, until a guy named Duane bought me. I think
he felt sorry for me as he already had a newer model and couldn’t afford
my insurance so I didn’t get to go anywhere.
But things changed for the better when a nice young man purchased me for $125.
I was his first car and it was love at first sight. I received a new yellow
paint job, Earl Schribe finish at $29.00, and new rolled and pleated Naugahide
upholstery. (What is a Nauga anyway?) I got a new top and my running boards
were scraped of that awful white paint. I looked great and was able to go to
college with my new owner and help him date his future wife, Kay. She was a
keeper – not like some of those others who only wanted a ride in a convertible.
In 1964 Disaster struck! I was sitting up on blocks in a building near the Willamette
River when the Christmas Week flood came. Would you believe I was under water
for two weeks! Why, if I had been a human, I would have drowned! But I survived
covered with river silt -- my beautiful upholstery ruined and mechanics all
clogged up. My owner was so discouraged he almost sold me, but had a change
of heart and started buying replacement parts while I was convalescing in a
barn on higher ground.
In 1973 I got the works – new paint (my original Indian Suntan), new leather
seats, and rebuilt motor -- new everything! I was reborn and got to take a trip
by trailer to Colorado Springs, Colorado for the big 15th Anniversary Vintage
Chevrolet Club of America National Meet.
Well, now I’m in my middle age and sorry to say, don’t get out much
any more. Oh, an occasional Dallas or Amity car show – once I got to go
to the Big One, Forest Grove. My owner cares for me, but gee, I wish he would
start me up and take me for a drive in the country. My, how I love those drives
in the Willamette Valley. I just know he will. I know it, I know it!
