The New Pinto
Greeting one & all. Welcome again to the ramblings of an old man trying to write about his youth before he forgets it.
I've mentioned in this column before that my parents had a penchant for picking cars that have dubious mechanical issues. I remember the day when the last new car that we purchased while I was living at home rolled into the driveway.
I had come home from school (via the schoolbus) and set into getting my chores done. It was getting late in the afternoon/ early in the evening and Mom & Dad hadn't gotten home yet. I began to worry that the car had broken down (I can't even remember what car we had at the time).
Not much later, I herd an unfamiliar horn honking in the driveway. Around our house, If you were driving by someone's house, and wanted to tell them something, you stopped at the house, honked your horn and one of the kids came out to see what the message was. Since I was the only one at home, I went out to see who it was.
As I rounded the corner of the porch, I saw a red car in the driveway. I didn't know anyone with a red car. I got a bit suspicious until Dad opened the driver's door and asked how I liked it. I was a bit confused. Then Dad said they had just bought it in Westerville that day (BTW- If you're in Westerville now, Allen's coin shop is now in the location of the car dealership that sold my folks the Pinto).
Mom said that she had wanted to get a blue one, but when she got in the car to start it, it wouldn't turn over. She refused to try it again with the reasoning that since if it wouldn't start at the dealership, it wouldn't start when she got it home.
I was quite thrilled. I would be driving soon, and that car had my name written all over it.