When I first tried to climb into my rumble seat, I realized that the last time I’d been in a rumble seat was in 1957. It wasn’t in an A, but was in a ’33 Plymouth roadster. That day, I had my first beer while riding along with my cousins on a beautiful, hot sunny day on the Southern Oregon coast. I was 13 and 1/2 years old.
My older cousin Roy had installed a radio, and I heard Jack Scott sing “What In The World’s Come Over You’ and “Buring Bridges” for the first time. That beer tasted good for the first two ice-cold swallows, then warmed up and tasted what I thought pee must taste like. I was never much of a beer drinker after that.
Believe it or not, but I had my first A back then. It was a 1931 coupe with a trunk. I remember back then wondering where people with rumble seats carried their tools. The idea of trying to lift a heavy tool box up out of a rumble seat was beyond me even back then when I was young and full of it. Also, the idea of having an open car without windows totally turned me off. Hey, it rained a lot in Portland, Oregon, and even back then I hated the feeling of damp upholstery. Even worse was the feel of that bakelite steering wheel. I remember my hands turning black when driving after I’d left the driver’s window down in a rainstorm. After that, I bought my first leather steering wheel cover. After several tries, I was able to get that stitching correct, and wow did that black cover ever look good. It made the steering wheel bigger and easier to grab. I’ve put leather covers on almost every steering wheel of every car I’ve had since then.
I’ve got to thank you guys again for stirring up wonderful memories.
Thanks,
Mike
P.S. That first beer was Olympia and had four stars on the inside of the label. That meant that I was going to get “Some.” What a joke!
