The first car I ever bought was a 1958 CJ-5 Jeep.
I’ll never forget the lesson it taught me. My brother and I had gone to look at it on a Friday night down in a trailer park off the 405 in Culver City. Old guy owned it and said he’d used it out in the desert to haul dirt out of his mine.
I had to work the next day so I had my dad go do the deal for me. He called from the phone booth outside the bank to say he didn’t think it was a good deal. Claimed the jeep was laying down a smoke screen like a destroyer. He didn’t think I’d be able to drive it on the road. Being an all-knowing teenager, I figured he just didn’t want me to have a jeep as a first car. I told him that we hadn’t seen any smoke the previous night and that he should just pay the man the $375 and be done with it. I wanted that jeep.
Well, when I got home was I ever disappointed. Dad was right.
Long story short, it was over a year before I had that jeep on the road. Turned out it had a cracked block, broken rings etc., you name it, it was bad.
I’ve had a very strong dislike for RED colored cars ever since.
And I learned to listen to my dad a little more closely.
