The article in Cars & Parts magazine hooked me. They were advertising a cruise to happen next year in 1997 along Old US 66, that long storied and fabled highway running from Chicago to Los Angeles.
The only real stipulation for participation was using a car older than, I think, 1965. Despite having two of them, the 1962 and 1963 Ford Galaxies, neither were ready for any type of run. They had been sitting in my parent’s pole barn entirely too long. Plus, there was more fun finding something different – and already running.
My 1955 Chevrolet fell into my lap, in a sense. Since I was finding my new found freedom from my extended incarceration time in college to be both liberating and invigorating, I was making up for lost time in automotive experiences.
The exact chain of events are now quite fuzzy. All I can really remember is my mother mentioned an old Chevrolet belonging to a good friend of her younger brother, my Uncle Tom. The car was located in Scott City, Missouri, just south of Cape Girardeau. At that time, I was living over three hours away in Jefferson City. That’s no step for a stepper, is it?
One Friday night when visiting my parents, my father and I met Tom and his friend Frank at Frank’s house. The Chevrolet had originally belonged to Frank’s grandmother, Frank was moving to Texas, and he really needed to sell the Chevrolet.
Like both of the Galaxies, this Chevrolet had been sitting for a while – but not nearly as long. Plus it was something different, which was greatly appealing.
Despite this little dormancy thing, that Chevrolet was in fantastic, but not perfect, shape. There was no rust anywhere, the interior was still quite serviceable, and it was equipped such that abuse was much less likely.
How was it equipped? In addition to being a four-door sedan in a mid-trim level, it had a 235 cubic inch straight-six hooked to a three-speed manual transmission.
In talking with Frank, he and Tom were having a fun time reminiscing about their adventures in that ’55 Chevrolet. It seems they had played hooky from work a few times and drove all over the countryside in it, seeing things, bullshitting with each other, and finding unique restaurants.
My big takeaway from this was that Chevrolet was accustomed to roadtrips and it would be just the ticket for me. I talked Frank down $100 from his $1,000 ask.
I can vaguely remember pulling it back to my parent’s house with their 300 straight-six equipped 1984 Ford F-150. That was a leisurely trip.
Getting it back to my parent’s house, I was pretty pumped about the old Chevrolet. But I was now out of weekend by this point.
Future trips back saw me fiddling with that Chevrolet, getting it ready for its grand journey.
It took little to get the old girl started. Once running, I drove my Chevrolet around their house a few times, thankful there had not been any recent rains to prompt my getting stuck in the mud. My father drove it once around the house, observing it was running a little weak.
So he and I changed the plugs and the points.
Changing the plugs was a non-issue. They were all conspicuous and easily accessible. The points were a different story.
Intuition was telling me to replace the points without removing the distributor, but the reach was just enough to be awkward. When my father, who is several inches shorter than I with the associated shorter arms, was having trouble, he simply grabbed the distributor and pulled it out. That really made changing the points easy. He had changed points before, so I figured he was aware of what he was doing.
This is the moment I learned there is no correlation between the precision needed with popping an aspirin into one’s mouth and the installation of a distributor. When the points were changed, he then (finally, but too late) had that “uh-oh” moment.
The distributor went back in, but we never got my Chevrolet started again. In hindsight, correcting this situation would not have been overly difficult. However, I was simply ignorant about such things. Further, time to learn by trial-and-error was a luxury I did not have.
The day it went away – you can see car hauler in the background.
It was around this time Marie and I had become much more serious and I knew a wedding was in our future. So my time to work on my Chevrolet was evaporating.
Soon after I placed it for sale.
After dealing with some intriguing characters, I found a buyer in Sweden. He wired me my money the very last day I worked in Jefferson City before moving to Cape Girardeau. It worked beautifully as my money arrived at 10:30 am and I closed out the account at noon.
Several weeks later the transport company arrived at my parent’s house and my ’55 Chevrolet was then loaded up to head for a transport ship in Huntington Beach, California. It seems taking the long way to Europe was a whole lot cheaper.
In a reflection of 1998, I got $1500 for my Chevrolet. While not a bad return on my investment, I was unhappy about not really getting to become familiar with my car. This is the least I have driven any car I’ve ever owned.
As with so many things in life there was a learning lesson involved. My ownership of this wonderful Chevrolet made me face adult life and realize how one has to prioritize and be realistic and how one cannot keep living in a world of optimism. So, like the fictitious character of Portia, I had faced life.
I used the money from the sale of my Chevrolet to finance Marie’s and my honeymoon to Yellowstone National Park. And the Route 66 cruise never happened.
(Author’s Note: Portia Faces Life was a syndicated dramatic serial on radio from 1940 to 1953; it later moved to CBS television where it ran from April 5, 1954, to July 1, 1955.)
Now this is the typical ‘55 Chevy that most people bought. Low optioned 210 sedans with maybe a radio. Perhaps Powerglide if the newly licensed wife was going to drive it. More 210’s were sold than any fancy Bel Air. The 210 was certainly not luxurious, but not spartan either. Decent, low cost transportation that was the best selling Chevrolet line for many years.
That is correct. It was also Studebaker’s downfall. Studebaker’s offerings were similar in the 6-cylinder Champion, and V8 Commander, for trim level, but neither could match the price point of the Chevrolet 210. Studebaker had to sell their cars at a Buick price point in order to make a profit.
I must agree with CPJ.
In the entry level suburban tract home development that I grew up in during the late 1950’s/early 1960’s, one found far more Ford Mainline/Customline and Chevy 210 models than Crown Vics and Bel-Airs.
The “Great Depression Babies”, moving into the brand new suburbs, having survived their grim childhoods of the 1930’s and 1940’s, knew how to put substance above flash.
Not hard to set the timing on an old straight six no 1 at TDC both valves shut the rotor points at no 1 lead have the points just opening(use a cigarette paper) and it should roar into life
Oh, cruel fate! With two peoples’ timing being a little different, you could have bought this car when you lived just up the road from it, instead of having to store it a long distance away from you.
I presume the issue was that your father did not pay attention to where the rotor was pointing when he pulled the distributor out? I knew that was an issue and paid scrupulous attention to it the first time I pulled a distributor from a slant 6 to replace points.
And how awful that you never got to drive it out on the road. This would probably have been a really sweet driver. Oh well, you got a good story out of it.
Yes, the timing did indeed suck. I sold this car then moved nearby. The cruelty of life can hurt sometimes.
The distributor saga is where my simple ignorance and his failing memory (combined with inattention and apathy) collided. His statement was “it’ll slip right back in”. He was right, it did. But it obviously didn’t slip back in where it needed to. Naturally, when it wouldn’t start (and we cranked on it a lot), he washed his hands of it and said I’d figure it out.
This and/or my ’75 Thunderbird are the cars I really wish I had back. It’s hard to get any further apart than those two, but that’s just what I would love to get back.
The distributor on the slant six, on the underneath side in a narrow A body engine bay, was definitely hard to reach.
+1 on the /6 distributor. Easier to pull it out to do the job. If you tried to set the gap with it installed, you tended to put the feeler gage directly down instead of at an angle. Once electronic ignition came out in 1972, best fix was to do a swap.
Ouch! Too bad you already had two galaxies in the pole barn, otherwise the little 55 might have been a better long term option.
As an aside, it must have been a huge barn to encompass two galaxies 😉
The pole barn was 24′ x 40′ if memory serves. It also held his Ford tractor plus a cornucopia of my father’s Sizable Hoard of Ignored Treasures.
The ’55 would have been an infinitely better long term option in so many ways. Plus it was simply in overall better condition. Hindsight is indeed 20/20.
That big six was adapted by Austin UK for the Sheerline luxury saloon, and used in the beautiful Grand Tourer Jensen. Back in the USA, suitably valve-timed and carburetted, it gave the first Corvette its guts and grunt. Your Chev’s body inspired that of Australia’s first «New Holden» since 1948. A workshop manual, or any professional or DIY motor mechanic, could have told you how to refit and time that distributor. I sold my last hot Triumph to a bloke who opened up the timing chest and pulled out the gears, notably the intermediate wheel designed for fine adjustment of the camshafts (ask a Bonnie rider) Two months later I, Ducati mounted, met him on a borrowed crappy widow-maker Kawasaki 2stroke triple – much power, little weight, handling like a supermarket trolley on ice. “G’day! How’s the Trumpie?” “I’ve been too ashamed to tell you. I need help. I was curious, and . .” “Let me guess. You f~ed round with the timing gear.” Problem solved on bike and in his baffled brain that very afternoon. Lent him my Works Manual for photocopying.
“…made me face adult life and realize how one has to prioritize and be realistic and how one cannot keep living in a world of optimism…”
Optimism is good; it makes one excited about the future. But as in so many aspects of life, moderation is key.
The moment you realized the Two-Ten had to go could probably be seen as the moment you shifted your life maturity level from first into second, maybe even into third as well.
Some forms of education, like college, can be very expensive. Other forms of education, like this beautiful ole’ 55, can be profitable in multiple ways. The best part of this story is that you were smart enough to know what was happening.
That being said, I like the way the Chevrolet ad intelligently described their engine/transmission/axle ratio offerings.
Very true about optimism vs realism. As you typed that I was tweaking an upcoming installment where I state that optimism is often diffused by reality. That’s still several weeks out and covers where my maturity went into overdrive.
The ’55 was being stored outside. Each time I saw it I could tell its condition was just a wee bit less good than the prior time I had seen it. It deserved better which is what compelled me to sell it. Had timing of events been different, I may still have it. It’s hard to know.
Selling it was also my first real taste of the four-door phobia that exists in this country. It’s utterly ridiculous; if one’s intent is to drive it, they all look the same from the driver’s seat. So this tells me the intent isn’t to drive it but be seen in it.
As one who is not out to impress anyone, this is so unfortunate and such a philosophy really robs one of potentially great experiences.
Based on the theory of “New job, new city, new wife and new life” my Father traded in his V8/Overdrive 1952 Ford on a six/stick stripper 1955 Chevy 210 a week before moving from Kansas City to New Orleans.
Dad told me, more than once, that by the time he and Mom drove thru Shreveport, LA (on their 4 day trek to #NOLA) that he was mentally kicking himself for buying “a car from the past”.
Five years and all of 11K miles later Dad dumped the Chevy for a new Valiant V-200. A car Dad pronounced as being “A modern car and better than the POS Chevy in every way possible.”
Mark, Your dad was right.
Today we honor the ’55 Chevrolet as a clean, uncluttered design using proven mechanical components. Three on the tree (or cast iron Powerglide) and an OHV engine worked well, but it drove pretty much like most other cars of that era.
We love them now, but back then it was just another regular American sedan, albeit a nice looking one.
Now, the 1960 Valiant was revolutionary. It was smaller and lighter than full size cars but had mostly the same interior volume due to the use of its unibody construction.
It had a daring design which many (including I) thought to be new and exciting. The slant six employed a number of improvements, was space efficient (being slanted), and incorporated neat intake runner that experts claimed was a good thing (but what do I know?).
It cornered pretty well compared to earlier body on frame cars. Why? Probably reduced weight and its front torsion bar suspension. At least that what I told people! It really felt light and easy, especially when coming from a 1953 Chrysler.
The Valiant was 12 volts, had an alternator rather than a generator, the automatic transmission was a smaller version of the proven Torqueflite, and the transmission was controlled by push buttons. Any manual shifter was on the floor.
Unmodified, it left the competing twins of the Ford Falcon and the GM Corvair in the dust. It was quite quick for the time.
And the sound of the starter motor was music to one’s ears.
My tiny, petite Mother was no fan of the Chevy either, saying that it was hard to steer and ponderous to parallel park. She had so little interest in driving the Chevy that she allowed her driver’s license to lapse.
One week and one drive around the block in the new Valiant; Mom promptly had her DL renewed. She encouraged my Father to take the Canal Street streetcar to work and leave the Valiant at home for her.
RLP, I was right with you until the end there. That musical gear-reduction starter* didn’t come round til 1962. The ’60-’61 cars had Prestolite (“Auto-Lite” at the time) direct-drive starters; they sounded like this.
*Yes, I still mean to do a post all about the Highland Park Hummingbird
I do recall Dad saying that the 1960 Valiant’s starter didn’t sound quite like the later 1960’s/70’s Mopars that various members of the family owned.
The warble of the “Highland Park Hummingbird” gear reduction starter is forever ingrained into the synapses of my memory. I heard it from 1962 until I sold my last 1982 318 Dodge truck in the early 2000’s. Other cars sound so….dull and bland….when they crank over!
I love to crank up the volume during the funeral cortege sequence in the movie “Three Weddings And A Funeral” to hear the Mopar sourced starters cranking over.
#NangNangNangNangNanggggggROARRRRR
As DougD says, “Ouch!”. We all have those learning experiences, but hopefully in most cases the timing (so to speak) is much better. Also, a nowadays – but equally inexperienced you – would hopefully benefit from Youtube where there are no-doubt dozens of videos discussing exactly how to quickly retime the car as well as how not to yank the distributor without noting the rotor position. It’s easy to forget how frustrating working without guidance was as recently as 1996.
I hope that you’ve been able to do a proper Route 66 drive since then.
“It’s easy to forget how frustrating working without guidance was as recently as 1996.”
That sums it up perfectly. It was going to be trial-and-error and my time was rapidly dwindling. I have no doubt somebody got it going again and this ’55 covered many miles in Sweden.
I have explored parts of 66, linked below, but all within a relatively narrow strip. There is much more to explore.
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/cc-roadtrip-and-nostalgia-seeing-the-ozarks-on-route-66-or-at-least-a-snippet-of-both/
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/route-66-revisited/
The second article has an Easter egg…I owned one of the cars featured in the pictures. It was sitting in front of its new home. The write-up on it is coming up in a few weeks.
Nice ’55 Chevy. Yes, I learned about pulling distributors the hard way, but a Chilton guide bailed me out quickly even when I thought I had done it right the first time by marking it.
I’m sure it’s been well-loved in Sweden.
With any hope it’s still going strong. Part of me was hoping the current owner would stumble upon this article or be told of it. There’s my optimism at work again. 🙂
Entertaining and engaging writeup as always, Jason! As a northerner, I’m always a little surprised that a car in this condition was just sitting there in MO, 40+ years after it was built. Up around the Great Lakes, it was a real “find” to get hold of one of these in this shape even in 1970, what with winter salt & rust, etc.
[Sweden] I’ve wondered about the logistics, costs, and hazards of that kind of international auto shipping, and would love anyone at CC who’s purchased *from* overseas to tell us their tale sometime…
Thanks.
There was comparatively little to say in regard to this Chevrolet. That’s too bad as it would have been good to have had more experiences with it.
I will say my Uncle Tom was a might bit peeved / perplexed / disappointed I sold it. Keeping it would have made no sense at that time. In hindsight it might have, but it’s hard to say.
I’ll just add that the un-secured child in the back seat of the “Two-Ten” Chevrolet ad stands out to me. That was by no means a remarkable thing back then (when my mom might have been about the age of that kid), but it’s the little things that stand out now to indicate how our world has changed. I don’t think that I ever moved a car with my kids inside when they weren’t strapped in as securely as NASCAR drivers.
So many had your experience, I did too after someone convinced me to yank the dizzy out of my ’46 Chevy pickup’s 235 .
There are two things : one is the slot on the oil pump drive, the other is to have the engine lined up on the mystery T.D.C. mark, a triangle or chevron on the flywheel, above the starter was a window with a little pointer facing down .
If you did it correctly, the rotor would move a little bit into the correct position just as the dizzy’s lower drive tang slipped into the oil pump…..
Many just shoved it in any old way then rearranged the spark plug wires…..
Few ever bothered timing the ignition at all so many of these ran sick and low powered when it was in fact a reasonably peppy engine due to a few degrees off in the timing .
Correct timing was ball on pointer at or below 600 RPM and there shouldn’t be any vacuum signal to the dizzy at idle .
-Nate
This was certainly a case of “if I knew then what I know now” or “if I had the resources then that I do now” life would have turned out differently.
But at least I have a few stories.
I greatly enjoy your stories Jason .
I have more than a few but am no sort of wordsmith .
-Nate
Wow, so you had a ’55 Chevy, if not for very long!
This was the first family car I clearly remember from my early years. My mother, widowed for a little over a year, traded in the ’53 210 for a new ’55 210 2-door. It was a little flossier than the standard 210, being a Delray Club Coupe. This package provided all-vinyl “waffle pattern” seats with matching door panels, in a lovely 2-tone combo of blue and white.
The exterior was India Ivory (roof only) over Skyline Blue. No V8, Powerglide, whitewalls, or radio (I remember the delete plate). We had it for 6 years and only 30K miles; then it was sold to my uncle and passed down to his son (my cousin).
So we had the icon before it was recognized as such, although I do recall by my middle school years that the Tri-Fives were already becoming treasured.
And Jeff Sun, my brother and I rode in the back seat, standing up on the floor facing forward!
Your mother’s ’55 sounds quite nice.
Speaking of riding, I vividly remember standing in the front seat of my grandmother’s ’71 Maverick while with her and my great-grandmother. It was great fun at that age. I would have been two or three at the time.
The 1st major serious car repair I did was replacing the heads on my ’65 Chrysler. Took a week or more, but everything seemed to go back together nicely.
Absolutely would not start. Eventually figured out that I had in fact put the distributor back correctly, and had found #1 properly, and had even put the wires on in the right order by following the diagram in the book.
Started with #1 and went around the wrong way!
Ouch. Good thing getting it started was a relatively easy fix. It would have been for me also but I was pretty ignorant of such things at the time.
Glad you got it going again; otherwise, I never would have been able to ride in it! 🙂
Ah, adult life, it seems to my life experience, has been a relentless series of surrendering many of the things we cherish and hold dear. Priorities is the right word. Often we are gifted with something of equal or greater value, though we may not see it at the time. We must choose wisely, and have the humility and faith to accept what we cannot change.