by Martin Lane, Jr.
Everyone has heard some
permutation of that old tale, the one about the old lady who drove her car only
to church and to the grocery store. And then, by some happenstance, passed the
machine on to some youngster, eyes all agape and spirit yearning for that simpler,
earlier time. This is how it happened to me.
For nearly two years, my father, Martin Sr., had been badgering Ethel Wilkinson. Ethel was in her eighties, and living in Jacksonville, Oregon. She had a tan, 4-door Dodge Dart sitting in her covered driveway. The odometer read 78,000 miles. The tires were the second set in the entire life of the car.
Ethel always resisted with the same speech, which consistently ended in a terse "I'll never sell that car".
In the spring of 1995, dad made a quick flight from his home in Boise, Idaho, to Medford, Oregon. The previous winter, he had asked Ethel (her mental state rapidly deteriorating), to copy down his name and phone number. He wanted to insure that if the car were ever sold, it would be to him. Ethel had moved into a retirement home, and Bob Stevens, while taking care of Ethel's things, had found the note.
Dad had talked to Bob the day before his flight. "Come and buy this car", he said.
And, soon after all of this, pop promised the car to me, it's third owner. Dad had driven it a little around Boise, affectionately referring to it as "The Slime". Unlike Bob Stevens, dad knew what he had, and he charged me a bit more than he had gotten it for. I was almost happy to pay it.
I passed through Boise to pick it up in October of '95. My first glimpse of it was in his driveway, facing the street. I got in the driver's side door, quickly forgetting who I was supposed to be visiting. The door opened and shut with quick, tight clicks. I was immediately impressed by the dashboard, fashioned of metal, and a monument to sturdiness and simplicity. The front seat had been reupholstered- nearly the only thing unoriginal. The glove box revealed the original owner's manual (more of a pamphlet), with meticulous records by Ethel, beginning on the day of purchase, May 5th, 1965. Below the manual, was a small plastic folder containing all service receipts, each folded in thirds, with a date and odometer reading on the outside, in perfect chronological order, as well as the original "certicard" issued by the dealership. It seems Ethel rarely drove the car after 1972. She had the oil changed approximately every 900 miles. The original registration was wrapped around the column.
The trunk revealed vintage "broken down car" cardboard help-signs in a paper bag. Also, the original dealership plate covers- Sierra Dodge, Chico, California. The jack was in its holder, and apparently had never been used.
I drove the car from Idaho to Chicago in October, 1995. I stopped along the way, and snapped this picture at one of the Continental Divide scenic turn-offs.
"Ethel" elicits comments, stares, and fingerpointing daily. A prospective, yet ultimately would-be buyer has turned up about once every three days.
The car is a 3-speed with a 225 slant-6. The original paint is chipped in a number of places, mostly around the driver side door. Only the rear, passenger side door has been repainted.
In March, 1998, I called Bob Stevens while I was passing through southern Oregon. He was happy to hear from me, and later sent me several photos of Ethel. Here is a shot of Ethel with the car. Here's another taken while vacationing at Crater Lake.
Ethel was the best first owner anyone could ever wish for. I wish that I knew more about her. May her memory live on.
