57

Back in the early 1980s, I was a mechanic in a Military Police company in the Ohio National Guard. We were getting ready to attend summer camp near Lexington, KY. For those that don’t know, summer camp in the National Guard lasts for two weeks and can occur in state or out of state.

This year the unit was headed out of state. We were traveling via a convoy of military vehicles from a suburb of Cleveland to a military depot just east of Lexington, KY. We had mostly Jeeps (M151s), a few pickups and two 2-1/2 ton trucks. One was pulling a water trailer while the other was available to tow any vehicles that broke down along the way. The plan was to stop at a Guard unit in Columbus and top off with fuel and have a rest break. I was taking my Kawasaki KZ550 (1980, black). It was loaded, with a little help from my friends, into the back of our 2-1/2 ton truck. I figured it would give me some transportation while I was at summer camp. A friend, also in the motor pool (where we mechanics “lived”), brought along his motorcycle as well.

Since just about anything can happen to vehicles on a convoy, we came prepared to tow or fix most anything. What broke, in this case, was one of the 2-1/2 ton trucks, which we couldn’t really prepare for due to its size. The rear main oil seal had started to leak so we had to tow it into Columbus with the other 2-1/2 ton truck. This turned out to be a challenging but fun drive. In case you were wondering, one of the pickups towed the water trailer.

The truck that broke down had our motorcycles in it so we had to unload them in Columbus and ride them the rest of the way. Luckily there was a loading dock at the Columbus base so we could easily get the bikes off the truck.

More fun was on the way though as we had to ride through a rain storm and then my friend had his rear tire go flat a ways north of Lexington. He was able to stop safely and we limped the bike to a nearby gas station where he had to leave it for a couple of days until he could acquire a new tire and get it installed on the bike. That left me on my own for the last 50 or so miles.

The depot was an interesting place with a number of buildings that were empty. One of those, a large factory, had been converted into a barracks. The offices had been converted to rooms to sleep in and the factory area was used as a gathering place for watching movies and such in the evening and formation in the mornings. The odd thing about the factory, other than the smell, was the floor which had some sort of rubber on it, and this made it “springy” to walk on. The females stayed in converted offices on one side of the factory while the males were in converted offices on the other side.

Our motor pool was in one of the coolest buildings I have ever worked in. It was an old blimp hanger that was made entirely of wood. It was grey, probably 60 -70 feet high with huge doors on one end. The roof was curved vs. square (think inverted U). There was a platform about 30 feet up on the wall opposite the doors. It had a wooden ladder that went straight up the wall to it. I was the only one brave (or stupid) enough to climb up on the platform as the ladder had no safety cage and may have been a little scary but I’d never admit that!

The hanger also had some offices on one side that we used as a break area. We would open the hanger doors each morning and then work on vehicles throughout the day in the main part of the hanger. Overall, it was a great place to work and a great summer camp.

We did lots of different things in the evenings for entertainment and one of these was attending an auto auction out in the middle of nowhere. The auction took place in an old barn and appeared to be a regular event.

One of the guys in the motorpool owned a gas station / repair shop and decided to bid on a couple of cars that he could restore and sell. He ended up buying two. The first was a 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible. It was white, had all its parts and was in decent shape. The second car he purchased was a 1957 Chevy 210 coupe. It ran (eventually) but was a bit rough. More of it’s parts were in the car rather than on the car. It had been sitting in a field for years and was towed to the auction. After some work on the engine (shooting oil in the cylinders, etc., we were able to get it started. He paid $500 for it.

There was a guy that we were talking to in the parking lot of the auction, that wanted to sell his early 70s Super Bee for $1200. It had a 440 six pack and a 4 speed with the Super Bee decals on the rear fenders. It was orange and clean meaning no rust, etc. My friends wanted me to buy it and take it home and sell it but I didn’t have the cash.

In our spare time, during the rest of the first week, we worked on the cars my friend had purchased to get them ready to drive home during the middle weekend of summer camp. My friend asked me to drive one of them back and I said sure, as long as I could drive the ’57. He was fine with that as he wanted to drive the convertible anyway.

We left early on Saturday morning figuring we would take our time since the cars weren’t in that great of shape. Basically they looked like two pieces of junk. The ’57 had the rear bumper and most of its chrome scattered throughout the interior. There was enough room for the driver but that was about it. The seats weren’t in too bad of shape (bench front and back) so that helped comfort wise. As I recall the car was a mix of black, red and surface rust. Only surface rust though as it was actually pretty darn clean body wise. Just in need of a lot of TLC.

It had some old mag wheels on it (black or dark spokes with a semi polished rim). The engine was a 283 V8 with a two barrel carb and finned valve covers that looked period. It had a “three on the tree” meaning a three speed manual transmission with the shifter located on the steering column vs. on the floor. It also had an AM radio that actually worked!

I had always liked 57 Chevys but I had never had a chance to drive one. Now I was about to drive one several hundred miles! Albeit not one in great shape but an honest, solid 57 Chevy. Yep, I was hyped!

As I mentioned above, we left early on Saturday. This was the first time I’d driven the car so I was learning how it felt, how it drove and how the controls worked. We decided to take the highway and see how it went. Luckily, the first few miles were on backroads so I was able to get a feel for the car before we got on the highway.

The amazing part is everything was still tight. The car didn’t wander, it shifted well, it ran well and braked as well as can be expected for a car that was almost 25 years old at the time. It had decent power too. Better than I had expected from a 283 two barrel. All this isn’t what hit me though and made this such a memorable drive. It was the experience.

This car was a time machine. It smelled old. Not musty or even that dirty, just old. In a good way. The radio sounded like I was back in the 50s with it’s single speaker AM quality. The car just flowed. It was smooth. It was a time machine. It may have been the 80s outside but inside that car I was transported back to the 50s. I had never felt this before, to have a car be so thoroughly from a different age and yet be so good that it could transport you back to that age in a very, very good way.
Mile after mile and the feeling never went away. All through Kentucky, across the Ohio river and onto I-71 towards home. Back in the 50s. But then…

In the middle of Columbus, I see my friend (in the Bonneville convertible) slow down and pull over to the side of the road and stop. I pulled in behind him, now back in the 80s, got out and went to see what was the matter. The car had quit running for some reason. We looked at it and couldn’t figure out what the issue was so he decided to take the 57 and head home, get a trailer and come back and get me and the Bonnie. I’d stay with the car while he picked up the trailer. 

That’s what happened for the most part, I spent a sunny, summer afternoon on I-71 and enjoyed watching traffic go by. No police, or anyone else for that matter, ever stopped to see what was wrong so the next person I talked to was my friend when he finally reappeared. Some other folks from his shop picked up the Bonnie and we headed back to Lexington for the second week of summer camp. 

I’ll never forget the drive I had in that 57 Chevy. It was one of the best drives I ever did in one of the greatest time machines I ever drove. I’ve never driven a 57 since. 

The thing is, my friend was a master mechanic and couldn’t figure out an issue on a simple old car. To this day, I think he may have faked that breakdown so he could drive the 57 the rest of the way home, so he could enjoy that time machine as well.