|Girl not included.|
My parents bought my first car. For about $100.
A 1964 IH Scout.
The engine was ran, but not well and the electrical was a joke. The body was mediocre. It had been in a small accident and someone had beat out the fender with a ball peen hammer. They'd also spray-painted it gold, but not a good gold (if there is such a thing). It was a rusty-brown gold. The kind of gold that let you know someone without Banksy’s talent had attempted to complete the job.
When the engine finally gave up, it took me months to learn how to tear down and rebuild. My dad knew pretty much everything, could have completed the job on a weekend, and still had time to drink beer and BBQ burgers.
I managed well enough, but I needed help getting the timing right. A friend of my dad’s who was a pinball wizard at timing took about fifteen minutes.
The transmission, manual of course, was interesting. Going around a corner, it would always pop out of 2nd. I had to hold in the stick (that's what she said). Sometime after I finished the engine rebuild, the transmission went out.
In winter, of course.
I tried to service it myself (that’s what she said). I pulled a used engine from a pick-your-part lot (aka junk yard) with no luck. I now had two transmissions that were shot. I’m pretty certain I took out and put the transmission back in five or six times. Finally, I had to take it to a "specialist" who initially was going to replace it with a Chevy 4-speed, but then for some reason didn't. The entire thing worked reasonably well enough to get me from Salt Lake City to Portales, New Mexico for my first two years of college.
It's also the vehicle where I met my wife for the first time.
Tell me about your first car in the comments below. It might make it into my next book!