Since the Dodge dealership in Abilene was also the Renault dealer, I visited their place of business often, trying to keep the Dauphine running. When it became obvious that it was a losing cause, the dealer made me a great offer on a low-mileage trade-in; a 1962 Dodge Dart. The price was right; the vehicle had been purchased up north but when the owner moved to Texas they found that they couldn't deal with our hot summers and immediately traded for an air conditioned car. We were used to cars with no A/C, so it was a good deal.
The Dodge Dart had a novel feature; an automatic transmission with gear selection through push buttons mounted on the dash. Took some getting used too, and I learned - when the tractor-trailer ahead of me started backing up - that you could easily get confused about how to quickly select reverse gear. Fortunately, the trucking company paid for my new hood.
It wasn't long before we felt the need to become a two-car company; I had been looking at a Plymouth Sport Fury on a used-car lot owned by a man from church and somehow I talked myself into buying it.
It did have A/C, and it featured the forerunner of the legendary Hemi engine, with 407 cubic inches of displacement that developed 365 horsepower. There were twin air breather intakes, and two tailpipes as big around as my leg. It was very powerful and very fast - an ideal family car. As I recall, it had a 30 gallon fuel tank, which was a requirement to get you from one gas station to another. Gasoline was .35 cents a gallon in those days.
It had bucket seats with a console in the middle, and the gear shift knob in that console. Much easier to manipulate, as two-year-old Rob found out when he shifted out of gear and the car rolled backwards down the driveway into the street!
Barb took a break from teaching when the kids were very young, and it was hard to justify that muscle car under the circumstances (or any other circumstances), so I eventually sold it back to the same guy I bought it from. I notice that it didn't sit on his lot very long.
I worked for a man named Wyman Wilkerson, who bought a new Buick every year. When the new models came out, there was active bidding for Wyman's current car, because it was better than new; during that first year every little kink and problem had been taken care of by the dealer, Fred Hughes Buick. I begged and nagged Wyman until he sold me his 1970 Electra 225 hardtop.
The number 225 referred to the car's length, 225 inches. The car was almost 19 feet long! And yes, it would fit in the garage but only because we had not yet enclosed the bonus room. You could also throw a dance on either the hood or the rear deck, and a small family could live in the trunk. It had electric windows and seats, and an even bigger engine than the Sport Fury, a 370 horsepower, 455 cubic inch V8. And now gasoline was .38 cents a gallon. I paid Wyman $5,000 for that car and we drove it till the wheels fell off.
When it was past time to trade for another car, the afterglow of the Electra clouded my vision and reasoning and we bought another Buick. A lesser, loser, Buick Century. There's no picture of that car because the sooner it is forgotten, the better. It was my last American-made automobile.
Next... The Honda years
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