Mom’s Car

Mom didn’t learn how to drive until she was in her 40’s (I think). Dad taught her which, as I’ve heard, was not a pleasant experience for either of them. Neither had patience as a virtue. Somehow they got through it and Mom got her driver’s license. Since we had 1 car for the family (which was the relative norm in those days), Dad began the search for something Mom could drive. He landed on an old 1961 Ford Falcon. I found a picture of one of those, too:

It definitely wasn’t new. In fact, Dad found an engine for a 1963 Falcon that he and Dennis rebuilt in the garage. Dad wasn’t a mechanic (he did commercial art for a living), but he had street smarts, a keen mind, and was attentive to detail. So, between himself and automotive repair manuals available to him (along with Dennis’s assistance), he successfully rebuilt the ’63 engine, put it into the 61’s engine compartment, and the silly thing worked! Of course with all that power from a rebuilt engine, the rear transaxle blew apart while he and Dennis were taking it for a test run. Never to be conquered, they found an old transaxle on an abandon vehicle up by the gravel pit, extracted it, rebuilt it, and then Mom’s car was ready for Mom. She ended up driving it for a number of years until she eventually assumed control of the family car, which was a Chevy Biscayne, as I recall, and larger than the Falcon by quite a bit.

Mom was a good driver. I never felt unsafe as a passenger.