A Non-Hobbyists's View of Cars

Muzzle velocity, ballistic co-efficient, terminal velocity, interior ballistics, exterior ballistics, sectional density, magazine, chamber, bolt face, crane, forcing cone, rolling block, falling block, standing block, cast-off, lock, stock, barrel, boat-tail, meplat, hard cast, jacketed, FMJ, HP, FP, Ballistic Tip, Silver Tip, Model 70, Model 700, Model 77, Model 94, Model 95, Mauser, Mannlicher, Steyr, Czeska-Zbrojovka, Pietro Beretta, Eliphalet Remington, Oliver Winchester, Sam Colt, Savage 110, head space, John Moses Browning, Enfield, Springfield, .45-70 Government, .30'06, .270, 6.5 x 55, 7.62x54R, 7.65 x 53, 7 x 57, 8 x 57, belted magnum, .17 HMR, .22 LR, .22 WMR, shotshell, rimmed, rimless, rebated rim, and gas operated.

There! That ought to hold you. I know that you'll miss dreadfully all the usual firearms gibberish in this post, so I provided some for you right up front.

Since I know as little about cars as anyone, and since the First Amendment has not (yet) been repealed, I thought I would lay a little car talk on you. They really aren't that much different, you know, cars and guns. Both were major strides forward in world technology, both have been used to destroy countless human beings and animals, both have changed the face of warfare, and both are constantly indispensable in civilized society. Both lend an unmistakable air of freedom and independence to their owners. Both can be status symbols, depending on their age, their capabilities, the quality of their construction, or the name which is stamped on them.

My first car was a 1968 Volvo 1800S. I can't immediately locate a picture of it, but some of you recall it from when Jacob called it "the baby car." That was at about the time of Shayne's advent to the family. I bought it, because the Air Force Credit Union turned me down for a loan on a fully restored and gorgeous little Austin-Healy "Bug-eye" Sprite. It was too old, they said, having been made in England in 1960 (when I was nine.) The Volvo Sport Coupe, however, although it was in fairly good working condition, was only a 1968, so the AFCU decided they could take a chance on that one.

I spent lots of money repairing and maintaining it, not because it was a poorly made car, far from it, but because I was giving it a year's worth of use every couple of months. The fact that I had been transferred from the Presidio of Monterey (about 20 minutes from Shayne's house) to George Air Force Base (7 1/2 hours from Shayne's house) meant very little to me. She had to be visited at least every other weekend. I was certain of that. And so, the little Volvo had many, many miles put on it on freeways like I-5 and the 101. It also spent lots of time on two-lane highways like California 198 and Palmdale Road. When Shayne and I were in it, the Volvo logged lots of time in Monterey, Salinas, Castroville, and Moss Landing. It drove down Cannery Row innumerable times, and was parked as close as we could get it to the beach at Carmel-by-the-Sea. Naturally, we were more careful about that after Clint Eastwood became mayor there.

I once had a close friend who shared my love of various things such as firearms, airplanes, formula one racing cars, sports cars, history, and the LDS Church. His name was Rusty Black. Rusty was good to us in many ways, one of which truly touched our hearts. The second time we lived in Moscow, Joseph became briefly airborne while swinging with the Jimenez kids. The flight was OK, but the landing left much to be desired. During our boy's six weeks in traction, Rusty came up to the hospital many times with bags full of books to distract Joseph from the immobility which was driving him to distraction. I thought that Rusty knew more about cars than anyone I ever knew. And he did, at least until I met his little brother after Rusty's death from cancer. Kevin Black is a walking research engine (We used to say encyclopaedia there, but this seems more appropriate now, don't you think?) on the history, lore, and racing of cars. Oddly enough, he is now married to the same Sister Jimenez who so generously helped us with just about everything during both our tours in Moscow.

If I were anything like Kevin Black, I could tell you all the good and bad points about every car ever produced. As it is, I can only have a conversation with him if he patiently pulls me along, describing the history and technical philosophy of every car and car maker that has ever existed. When I offer a humble comment, after much thought and trepidation, he is always very kind in the way he corrects me, and he must almost always correct me on something. Only on guns can I keep up with him.

My ignorance of the subject notwithstanding, I still like cars and even love some of them. As the old expression goes, "I may not know art, but I know what I like." That's how I feel about cars. Here are a few I've photographed in the last couple of years.

I was particularly pleased with the results of this photograph since I'd taken it and several of these first ones with my phone.

Guess what name the Chrysler Corp. came up with for this color!

This poor little thing was the first car imported to America

by BMW after WW II.

Perhaps someone would be good enough to write in and tell me what the heck that thing is above the passenger side window.

The Chrysler Imperial had much in common with World War II Aircraft carriers.

You've probably noticed my weakness for cool "kit cars."

The DeSoto. Quite a story there, I understand.

In my teens, many cars were shaped generally like this. Today I find them terribly nostalgic.

Just plain cool. But not plain.

In my twenties, I knew a lot about cars like this.

I think this was the very first model of Corvette.

When I was in grade school, new cars looked generally like this.

That's all for now. I might find more pictures later.