Automobiles, Cars and Piles of Junk Cont'd

The next chapter in my exploits as a car owner happened when my mother died in the spring of 1963. The Red Cross paid my way to her funeral in San Diego and I accompanied my grandmother and Harold back to Selma afterwards. I bought the Mercury from a used car lot in Selma. She was a shiny low mileage used 1956 Mercury 2 Dr. Hardtop in two-toned green, dark below light on top. Quite a nice ride she was and in top notch condition. I was determined to take her back to Keesler with me so I could explore Mississippi and Louisiana more easily on the weekends. They sent me on my way with a couple of ham sandwiches and some blankets to let me sleep in the car on my way to Keesler if I needed too. I drove down the 99 and headed out into the desert towards the old Route 66 that I was going to take east to my destination a couple of thousand miles away. I got as far as half way to Blythe across the icy cold desert when the Merc coughed and quit. I sat by the side of the road for a long while and finally signalled a car who stopped and gave me a ride to the nearest town where I called Harold for advice on the car. He told me to hold tight and he drove the 150 miles to fix it (blocked fuel filter) and take me to the Greyhound station in Selma the next afternoon to renew my trip back to the base. The Merc remained in Selma for a while. When I got my permanent duty assignment at Beale AFB I returned via air to Fresno, Harold picked me up in the newly waxed and cleaned spotless Mercury which I soon drove north to Beale AFB outside of Marysville. I got it licensed for use on the base and used it going back and forth to visit my parents and girl friends in Selma on weekends that I was able to. It got about 15 mpg and was fairly reliable as well, it looked nice and my dates appreciated that it got us to the skating rink and home again without either running out of gas or go due to crappy mechanicals like the old Ford often did. I put many thousands of miles parading that car all over northern California until one day on the way back to the base from Selma it died and Harold came the 60 miles to rescue me again. It was adios to the Merc, sold for parts now in the 8th year of it's existance. I bused my way back to the base on Sunday and bought a new car about a month later. The verdict: Another piece of junk.