plymouth

First Cars Part 3

Posted on by noahmielke

If my first car represented freedom and my second represented exploring and being silly, then my third car represented my transition to adulthood and that I had a choice. I no longer was just excited to drive and being cool wasn’t all that.

The Plymouth Satellite was a real reflection of my taste and awareness. This was the real deal. This is the car that stayed with me for a lot of transitions and ushered in my early adulthood. I will never forget the day I first saw it. I was driving to high school, still fighting early morning grogginess, bumping along in my moms Jetta (remember I had sold my Duster to a nice father, and son team) when out of nowhere this Sunfire gold metallic 1972 Plymouth Satellite coupe rolls on to a front lawn- with a for sale sign in window! I slammed on my brakes pulled over and got out. This was my car from the moment I saw it; I knew.

I chatted with the owner, an older man, and our conversation turned to surprise when I got in it. Green vinyl seats and a manual! A three on the tree, with a slant six. Holy moly I was in love! The car was in perfect condition. I raced away heading to school with only that car on my mind. I didn’t have the money, but in desperate fashion I knew with some prodding I could make this my graduation present. Such a horrible way to see things but honestly, I wanted that car bad! The man I was buying it from had bought it for his son. His son hated it and wanted a Porsche and to my luck that was the moment he was angrily rolling it onto his front lawn to sell.

My family was supportive, and I bought it for cool $1000 dollars. I would treat this car differently.  I washed it, I waxed it, and I changed the oil every couple thousand miles. I babied this car, and I was so proud to own it. It was sleek and sophisticated it looked like a fast car, it wasn’t but it could drive anywhere. It was a poor man’s optioned car. Three on the tree, rubber floor, no carpet, and a 36-gallon gas tank. It was so aero dynamic I could drive road trips at 30 plus miles per gallon. Because it looked so good, I made sure not to push it too hard.

This in my life was the car that got away. No matter how amazing a car is; there comes a day when the daily grind takes over. Being a three on the tree became part of its downfall. After owning it for a decent amount of time the linkage started to get stuck. It wasn’t classic enough to find parts, and even taking it to the local mechanics shop they couldn’t bend the linkage back into place right. So, I got used to having to climb under the car to adjust which gear I’d use most before taking off. This got old but I loved that car, so I got used to it.

The death blow came on an early morning. When I would wake up,I used to always check my car through the window. I looked outside and did a double take. It looked like the driver’s door was smashed in! I threw on my jeans and ran downstairs to get a closer peak. I wondered if I did something and not realized it the night before? I checked out the car. I was up close and it was bad…….. super bad. You could see the door frame from outside the car. When I walked back in all disheveled my stepdad caught me up on what had transpired during my slumber. My mom was late for work. Her back window wasn’t defrosted, but she started to back out of the driveway. She slowly bumped my car, thinking it was just the trash can she proceeded to push it out of the way with her car. Except- the trash can didn’t move to her horror.

My mom was so horrified she hit my car that she didn’t come home for a while after work. I couldn’t be mad. They were fair parents and offered to get it fixed but it was the death toll of my ownership. I made a deal with my boss at the time to buy his sweet 1977 billet grill Chevy truck for what ever was left after trading in my car at a dealership for the newer truck he wanted. I told him, if they tried to low ball him, I’d just pay cash. The trade was done, and they low balled, I raced to the dealership to buy my car back, but the dealership had a friend that saw it and bought it right away. Super naive of me to think that was a good idea. I got my truck and moved on but, I’ve always been sad about getting rid of it.

Years later I found that satellite again. I searched for it for years. I memorized the vin and knew my plate numbers by heart. I was on craigslist and started seeing parts that were from my satellite specifically. MY dented door and a green bench with a certain rip in it. I contacted the guy. I found out he had made a clone road runner out of it. Not the honest kind, he was selling it as a 1971 Roadrunner a real one, which made me a little angry. Also, it is pretty stupid cause the marker lights are flush with the body on a 71 and this was a 72 so not so flush. He wanted $38,000 for it. What a rip off!  

So that’s where my car ended up. It was a great car and if I had the repair skills I have today I would have kept it. Another part of the learning process.

First Cars Part 2

Posted on by noahmielke

Jumping, speeding, and general fun; the Duster became my second car for all this craziness. It wasn’t exceptionally fast, but it could handle a good beating to make up for its inability to handle cornering. With a bullet proof slant six like my first car and the added benefit of being a sleeker two door, I really felt cool in it. It’s the first car I painted, installed a cd player and sub in, installed new carpet, touched up interior, and put on air shocks that would raise the back end (Monroe shocks). It had to be terrible to watch me pass by; racked with skinny tires, music blaring, and cut off mufflers with the drone sound from the oversized six cylinder.

It was so much fun, and I learned a ton from it. It’s like an awakening…… an awkward awakening. Plus, it ignited a Plymouth Mopar passion I would keep from then on. One exceptional memory of the Duster was jumping it over the tracks leaving an intersection. There was this set of tracks and even at slow speeds you could feel the car lift. I couldn’t resist the urge to see my more redneck side come out. During that summer, driving on my own, I flew through that intersection on a green light (I wasn’t totally devoid of reason!) I peddled the duster up to a solid sixty. Holy crap I flew, and it must have been a spectacle to the drivers waiting to go on the opposite side because mid-flight I could see the roofs of opposing traffic. When I landed my frame bounced off the ground and sparks started to fly from behind me. I limped the car to an industrial parking lot and found my entire exhaust system dragging under my car. Luckily, I had already cut into the exhaust, downpipe from the header to hear if it sounded better. I went behind the car, grabbed the muffler and twisted it around and around until the metal gave out. I opened my trunk, put down my California rear seats, and loaded up my exhaust system. After that I just ran a header and nothing else.

Man, that poor car; I was a horrible car dad at the time. Just excited to slide beat on it and feel cool. I did eventually sell it to a father and son who planned to build it to a hot rod project.  So, in a way I saved it from rotting next to a barn, sitting so long you’d have to cut the grass around it to get it out. That’s how I got it!

It’s probably garaged somewhere right now.

What do you do when you run out of hair product camping. Become one with the woods.