50 replies to this topic

[Tom Sager]

When 5 of us were 14 years old, we all went to our parents and asked if we could buy a car to drive in the field.  They all said sure.  We went to the property owner (no relation to any of us) of many acres of vacant land in suburban Buffalo, NY and asked them if would be OK if a group of us drove an old car or two on their property after school and on weekends.  They said it was OK except on days when the cub scouts were present.  I swear to all of you this is true.  The year was 1975.  We bought a 1963 Dodge Polara 2 door for $50 from my Dad who was in the used car business.    We had it dropped off at the property by a licensed driver and we blazed about a half mile oval in the field.  Of course the exhaust system was the first thing to fall off and the 273CI V-8 sounded great.  5 guys, no helmets, 60+ MPH and the occasional fight with a tree.  After several weeks the car died.  I think the transmission crapped out.  We called the junkyard who offered $40 and free towing.  We had each invested $10 in the car and got $8 back.  We came up with $2 each and got another car and this process repeated itself for a couple years.  Our program did evolve.  We began to wear helmets after a while and we learned that VW bugs were the best cars for such an activity.  No radiators or low hanging exhausts and they handled really neat.  This is where we all learned to drive a stick.  

 

My how the world has changed.  

[FTodaro]

Wow Motorheads do have things in common. I grew up about 60 miles south of Buffalo in Jamestown NY, when I was about 14, me and 3 other buddies did the same thing except, 1) we did not get permission from the property owner, we just did it and 2) we did not have an open file it was a woods and we mapped out a track and used the trees as pics we got two cars and I learned how to slide a car in the dirt and race.

 

This was my launching pad to racing on a 1/8 mile oval as a kid at Age18, Exhaust systems and Radiators were the first things to go.

[Qik Nip]

 

Once I took the tension off the wound up rope I heard, WHAM WHAM WHAM as the broomstick came unwedged from where I stuck it against the wall stud and started spinning like a helicopter blade slamming into the hood of the car while the transmission lowered itself onto my chest.

 

The helicopter blade description made it work for my twisted sense of humor!
Rick

[Qik Nip]

 

Not me, honest.

 

Sure Frank.
Rick

[Brocodile]

For me, it was an old Corvair convertible in my grandfather's pasture. It had a two-speed automatic and zero compression. We confined our activities to early mornings while the dew was still on the grass. Even with the anemic engine, it was possible induce lurid power slides in the wet grass. We had a blast. Ralph Nader would have been appalled.

 

Some years later, after I crashed my Porsche 912 in a one-car "incident" (another one of those slides, only not in the pasture), I borrowed the same Corvair to drive to my summer job. At that point, the thing was laying down a smoke screen worthy of 007, and wouldn't do over 50 mph on level ground. Not only were the rings shot, but the main seal leaked all over the exhaust system. Each morning, I added a quart of 40-weight and a can of STP. It was a 15-mile trip each way. On the way home, there was a long uphill pull. I had to put the trans in low gear and drive on the shoulder. With the engine laboring desperately, the exhaust system heated up and really started cooking its coating of oil. I was lucky nobody called the fire department. In the process, I received a much-needed dose of humility. Those were the good old days.

[LarryKing]

Didn't realize how common "field cars" were. My brother and I bought a 1970 Olds 88 in the late seventies. It was our "drinking car" (I know, not so funny when you grow-up). We use to bomb around the fields at a farm owned by the dad of a buddy - we had permission. After one particularly enthusiast outing I was driving home on county roads, hit the brakes and promptly discovered that I had ripped the brake lines off in the field. Luck was with me - I did not hit anything solid.

[Tom Sager]

My youngest brother probably holds the world record for shortest time being a licensed driver before totaling a car.  He fetched his license from the mailbox on a Saturday afternoon, asked our Mom for the keys to her Toyota Corolla.  She gave them up with some hesitation.  He drove to a friends house half a mile away, picked up the friend and stuffed the Corolla head-on into a tree just around the corner from the friend's house.  

 

I think the whole thing can be blamed on him not having the same chance to drive in a field at age 14.    

[FTodaro]

For me, it was an old Corvair convertible in my grandfather's pasture. It had a two-speed automatic and zero compression. We confined our activities to early mornings while the dew was still on the grass. Even with the anemic engine, it was possible induce lurid power slides in the wet grass. We had a blast. Ralph Nader would have been appalled.

 

Some years later, after I crashed my Porsche 912 in a one-car "incident" (another one of those slides, only not in the pasture), I borrowed the same Corvair to drive to my summer job. At that point, the thing was laying down a smoke screen worthy of 007, and wouldn't do over 50 mph on level ground. Not only were the rings shot, but the main seal leaked all over the exhaust system. Each morning, I added a quart of 40-weight and a can of STP. It was a 15-mile trip each way. On the way home, there was a long uphill pull. I had to put the trans in low gear and drive on the shoulder. With the engine laboring desperately, the exhaust system heated up and really started cooking its coating of oil. I was lucky nobody called the fire department. In the process, I received a much-needed dose of humility. Those were the good old days.

I think they use to rate those cars in Quarts per mile. or QPM.

 

Skip by the way this is not the Faster than a red neck Thread. lol.

[Brocodile]

I think they use to rate those cars in Quarts per mile. or QPM.

 

Skip by the way this is not the Faster than a red neck Thread. lol.

 

Speaking of rednecks, I forgot to mention that we had to herd the cattle to the other side of the creek before we could begin our exploits. Of course, they left plentiful deposits behind. We received bonus points on the basis of how many cow pies we could hit while sliding. Hitting a fresh one could really get you out of shape. It made a mess, too. The loser had to wash the car.

 

BTW, since your brother is coming with you to the Major at Road Atlanta, I'll heat cycle another six of our local redneck brew: Old Hairball Pail Ale. See you there.

[Jim Drago]

My dad was in the car business as well. He fixed up Bugs and sold them in the late 70's.. Somewhere in the mid 70's I learned to drive. I backed up the same bug into a well, TWICE when I was about 7-8..  From there, we had huge fields behind our house and I drove almost every bug we had through those fields.  My dad then went to Nissan B210's Drove many of those as well. Then he opened up a real body shop and often drove cars back and forth 4-5 years before I had any license. Since my dad said it was OK, I figured it was

[Bench Racer]

At 16 when I went for my drivers license the state trooper asked why I was there. I told him I'd like to take the road tesf for my drivers license. He had this, "say what look" on his face. I worked in a garage that had a tow truck and had been to several highway accidents to haul cars and you know who was there thinking all the time I had a license. I actually learned driving at 13ish when I was delivering milk home to home with the local bottler.

[CruzanTom]

When I was a Junior in high school in the early 70s and age 16, a friend asked me to help him out once a week at his job. He worked for Honest Don's Used Cars (real name) on Highway 52 in North Charleston. Each Thursday after school we would pick up the cars that weren't selling and drive them to the Darlington Auto Auction, about 100 miles away, and pick up new cars. We got paid $10 plus dinner at KFC.

 

Picture 4-5 high school guys racing cars they didn't own on Highway 52, passing on the shoulder, bump drafting (before we ever heard that term), driving 3 abreast on two lane roads, and conducting general mayhem. We all dreamed of driving in the Darlington 500. At least one car would die (over heat, no oil or tranny failure) on each trip and the driver would jump in another car and become the "navigator." Honest Don didn't care because he was selling the cars at auction (caveat emptor) and we always stopped and washed the cars before going to the Auction.

 

We lost a lot of cars but never had a serious accident. Angels must have been riding with us!

[FTodaro]

At 16 my first vehicle was a motorcycle, I took my MC drivers test when it was snowing. When I did not dump the bike the guy felt I deserved to pass.

[john mueller]

A few months before my 16th birthday, my folks went away on a weekend trip and left the keys to my mothers 1979 Camero, chocolate brown with a 305cid.  Once my folks were probably out of city limits I grab the keys and headed out...  Mind you this is suburban Detroit, no cow pastures here.

 

So I'm bombing around and end-up on a dirt road where I teach myself how to power slide without putting it in athe drainage ditch.  After doing that for awhile I decide that I should head back and for some reason think I need to do it in a hurry.  When I got to the railroad tracks I had to be going 110mph, no train in sight just a massive drop-off on the other side...  Yep, I did my best Dule Boy impression but stuck that landing flat with no damage.

[FTodaro]

Ok I am starting to like this thread, it's good to know I was not the only dumb ass growing up,

In my mid teens 16-18, my mom would give me money to buy the annual Christmas tree, well you guessed it I spent that money on beer, so at 1 am I get the idea that we should go tree hunting, find the perfect specimen in someone's yard, throw it in top of my 66 mustang, roll down the windows, so I can hang on to one branch with my left hand, drve with the right, and my buddy on the other side hanging on to a branch out the passenger window.

Roads are snow covered. We pass a cop going the opposit direction and he immediately whips the car around, no lights yet, I take the first right and try to loose him, pull into a buddies drive and pitch the tree.

This was back in the CB days and I get on the radio, to tell my other buddies what had happened and where I was. About 5 min later I hear a car come up the snowy road, kicking in the 4 barrel carb, and comes sliding in the driveway. It's the cop.

He asks me where I got the tree, and I said something not 100% accurate, and says if he gets any reports he will be back. I then ask him how did he know where I was and he says, you are not the only one with s CB, dumb ass.

It was a small town and back then things were pritty laid back.

[Pat Ross]

I am so old that I got my drivers license in Texas when I was 14.  That wasn't the dumb thing I did.  After my Freshman year in college I bought a 1948 Caddy fast back coupe that had a hydromatic transmission without reverse.  I always had to park where I could go out forward or park on an up slope so the car would roll backwards.  The summer I bought it the timing chain jumped so the car wouldn't run.  This was the first car I worked on so I pulled the pan and replaced the rings and bearings and installed a new timing chain.  I had no idea what a torque wrench was so I just tightened the rod and main bolts to about as tight as I could get them.  Put it all back together and everything worked just fine for the rest of the summer and all year while I was in school in Oklahoma.   

 

At the end of the school year I loaded all my stuff into the car and headed home to my parents house in Houston.  On the way home I got in a race with a Thunderbird somewhere in Oklahoma.  Just as I pulled into the next town a rod started making all kinds of racket.  I spent the night in the car, then the next morning jacked up the front end and pulled the pan.  One of the rod bolts had pulled in two and the rod bearing had spun. 

 

Now comes the dumb part.  I got the bright idea that all I had to do was get a guy with a cutting torche to cut off the rod and push the pistion up in the bore so that the crank wouldn't hit the rod.  Then I got a piece of rubber and a hose clamp to cover the oil hole in the rod journal.  Great idea, right?  Unitl I put the pan back on, filled it with oil and started the car.  You would not believe how much one of those flat head V-7s would shake.  Called the nearby wrecking yard, they gave me $15 and a ride to the railroad station.

 

I only paid $75 for the car in the first place so it wasn't that big a loss.  Of course I would love to have that car back today since a similar vehicle is the basis for ZZ Top's Godzilla.

 

Pat

[Ron Alan]

Didn't realize how common "field cars" were. My brother and I bought a 1970 Olds 88 in the late seventies. It was our "drinking car" (I know, not so funny when you grow-up). We use to bomb around the fields at a farm owned by the dad of a buddy - we had permission. After one particularly enthusiast outing I was driving home on county roads, hit the brakes and promptly discovered that I had ripped the brake lines off in the field. Luck was with me - I did not hit anything solid.

For me it was a 69 Plymouth FuryIII and my buddy had a Delta 88 making our own race track bombing around on the river dirt roads. Vinyl seats, lap belts and 2 feet of body roll was not exactly a great set up. But 6 people could ride for free!

[conlin]

One off my many genius ideas. On my way to my parents New York State country house I got my 5.0 mustang stuck in a snow drift on the frame coming down the off ramp , My Freind and I decided we would push it , and put my girl freind behind the wheel (this was her first time behind the wheel off a car ) showed her how to step on the gas put it in 2 nd , after about 5 mins off pushing the car it grabbed some cinder ash and took off like it was shot out off a cannon down the ramp , she panicked hooked it left down a 60 ft hill and the only thing that stopped it was a snow drift , the best part she was still foot to the floor when I got down there and climbed through the hatch back to turn the key off , the look off shock was priceless , mouth wide open and the grip off death on the wheel ,I was laughing so hard it took about 20 mins to peel her fingers one by one off the wheel , Needless to say breakfast at the kitchen table with my parents and her was no fun

[William Bonsell]

Glad to know others have done some pretty crazy things both on and off the track. Some have brought back memories. I vividly remember revving the '65 corvair corsa in neutral and then dropping it into gear on a snowy night outside Washington DC and having the tranny literally explode. Wow was my Dad furious. I blamed it on the snowy conditions.

I remember one of my first races at Portland. Being excited and nervous as well, I'm sitting in grid waiting for the 1 minute warning and become aware that my toes are a bit chilly. I look down and instead do seeing my Sparco's, I see a pair of loose fitting sandals. As the grid worker comes out to look inside the car as they always do, I had my feet tucked up as high as I could making sure my issue went undetected. I ran the race but my feet got very hot and it did make those heel toe shifts a tad problematic. And then there was the jack and jack stands in the trunk! Good grief........

[Tom Sager]

When I was a Junior in high school in the early 70s and age 16, a friend asked me to help him out once a week at his job. He worked for Honest Don's Used Cars (real name) on Highway 52 in North Charleston. Each Thursday after school we would pick up the cars that weren't selling and drive them to the Darlington Auto Auction, about 100 miles away, and pick up new cars. We got paid $10 plus dinner at KFC.

 

Picture 4-5 high school guys racing cars they didn't own on Highway 52, passing on the shoulder, bump drafting (before we ever heard that term), driving 3 abreast on two lane roads, and conducting general mayhem. We all dreamed of driving in the Darlington 500. At least one car would die (over heat, no oil or tranny failure) on each trip and the driver would jump in another car and become the "navigator." Honest Don didn't care because he was selling the cars at auction (caveat emptor) and we always stopped and washed the cars before going to the Auction.

 

We lost a lot of cars but never had a serious accident. Angels must have been riding with us!

You have no idea how close to home this is for me. Me and my high school buddies drove cars to auctions for my dad for years and we too dealt with every kind of breakdown, failure and weather challenge you could imagine.  So many stories about cars with no brakes, no lights, no clutch, flat tires, overheating, you name it.  Once i got rear ended at a stop sign and the car I was driving had  already been smashed in the rear.  No harm no foul we just shook hands and went on our way.  We learned that there was usually a reason why these cars were traded in by their owners.  My dad paid us by the car rather than time so there was a big incentive to get from point A to B quickly.  We had a lot of fun with that and after 2 years of field car experience we considered ourselves experts.  He was never happy if we couldn't figure out how to start a car or deal with an unforeseen problem.  Once we went to a Chrysler dealer after hours to get a car and it was parked nose in, dead battery and flanked by other cars on each side.  It needed to be jumped.  We couldn't get a running car nosed up to it to jump it.  I called my Dad on a nearby payphone to tell him we couldn't get the car started.  He told me to pull our running car up behind the dead car with the chrome bumpers touching.  "Make sure the bumpers are touching" he said.  Then he told me to separate the 2 jumper cables and connect them together to make one long cable and then connect that long cable to the positive battery terminals only on each car.  To our great surprise we fired that baby up about 5 minutes later.