While attending Grays Harbor College, I worked at Harbor Television and saved money to buy a car. A neighbor bought old cars and fixed them up to sell. Dad checked one out and told me that was the car I would buy. The decision was his, the cash was mine. I gave him my $350 and became the owner of a 1952 Chevy — probably the ugliest car Chevy ever made. But it got me where I needed to go.
I soon learned the idiosyncrasies of this car and how to deal with them. It would often pop out of high gear and I would have to shift back in. It also had a bad habit of sticking in second gear. I would have to get out of the car, pop the hood, pull up the sprocket to unstick it, get back in and be on my way. Rather embarrassing as I held people up. But no driver behind me ever complained. They were probably surprised and amused that a young female was able to do whatever it was under the hood to get the car moving.
Whenever it snowed, which wasn’t often in Aberdeen, our phone would start ringing. The word was out to fellow students: I was not afraid to drive to college in the snow. With two bench seats and no seat belts, the number of riders I could pack in depended their sizes. Most of us were thin. There were three in front, but I think we had five or more in the back seat. Then we had to park at the lot at the bottom of the hill and walk up a huge flight of stairs.
Between our freshman and sophomore years, my friend Beth and I decided we would go camping at Lake Chelan. Her folks had the camping gear and I had the car. It was August 1962.
When we arrived at the campground and drove around, we saw no available spots. Eventually two young guys flagged us down and said we could use their campsite. They were working at the campground for the summer and had a trailer, and didn’t need the picnic table and barbecue. We happily accepted.
We pitched our tent, went to the store and stocked up on food. Back then, kids ate when and what was served at home, so it was thrilling to choose whatever and whenever we wanted to eat. It was a first that I still remember.
Then these two guys introduced us to a family who regularly camped there during the Seattle Seafair, to get away from the crowds. And they had a ski boat! They had three sons, all younger than we were. But fortunately for us, Bob, the dad, liked to share waterskiing.
Soon I was on waterskis on Lake Chelan. I hung on tight, wondering why I was having such trouble keeping my skis steady. They seemed to have a mind of their own. I didn’t crash, but I wondered what I was doing wrong. I said nothing. Then it was Beth’s turn. When she got back, she also commented that it didn’t feel right.
Bob and the others burst out laughing. They had put us on skis without ribs or fins to help us stay straight, which were standard for beginners. Bob said since we were such good sports, he would take us waterskiing the rest of our time there.
He rounded up another girl and towed the three of us out at the same time. We criss-crossed over or under each other’s tow lines. We crashed when I didn’t duck low enough, so I traded Beth for the longer tow line. Unlike me, she ducked perfectly. It was an exhilarating experience and another first!
One morning, I woke to the smell of tobacco in our tent. It was about 6 a.m. and Bob, a smoker, was waking me up. “Carol, the lake is calm, there’s no one out there and I want you to come and drive my mini-hydroplane. You are so small, I think you can hit top speed if you open it up.”
So there I was, out on the lake on a beautiful sunny morning. He towed the hydroplane (that’s not a plane but a racing boat) with his ski boat and had me transfer to it. He explained what to do and told me to open it up. The lake was smooth as glass. No boats to watch out for. No wakes in the water. So for my very first boat driving experience, I hit the throttle and took off with Bob following behind.
I never felt so free as the warm wind blew my hair and the tiny hydroplane skimmed across the calm water. It seemed like I was flying. I kept edging faster as I felt more confident. Then I opened it up. I don’t remember how fast I went. But 54 years later, I do still remember the thrill of the speed!
Much too soon, it was time to get back in Bob’s ski boat. I was on cloud nine. And Bob was happy that all 105 pounds of me took his little hydroplane for one fast ride!
Our vacation ended and we loaded up my old ’52 Chevy. Second gear still stuck and it still popped out of high gear regularly. It had popped out so many times driving to Lake Chelan, I decided to count on the way back home. By the time I dropped Beth at her house in Hoquiam, my Chevy had popped out of high gear 99 times!
But it never ever let me down, so it holds a soft spot in my heart to this day.
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