My friends had a red one that really impressed me. They were antique dealers and the car had been part of an exchange involving furniture. “If another deal like that ever comes along”, I told them, “I’ll take it.” It did and I did.
That red Audi 100 LS was a two-door automatic. I think it was a year or two newer than the white four-door four-speed that I bought after it was swapped for an armoire. It was the build quality as much as anything that impressed me about the Audis. I commented more than once that it felt like the car was built by people who thought they might have to ride in it someday. The photo is from the internet. That’s not my car but it’s close. The only obvious differences are the fog lights and wide European style license plate area.
The car came with two invisible flaws. The first was a failing second gear synchronizer which, although it couldn’t be seen with eyes, was instantly apparent with a drive. Surprisingly, perhaps, it was almost instantly relegated to a mere inconvenience. Matching engine and gear speed was actually quite easy. With a brief pause in neutral and a restrained throttle blip, a shift to second was usually completed without even double-clutching. It quickly became second nature to me. The other flaw appeared infrequently but was much more than an inconvenience and was, at least indirectly, involved in the Audi’s demise.
The issue was carburetor icing. Under the right conditions, something in the carburetor would freeze and prevent the car from running. There were only a few time that this behavior left me stranded but, since those right conditions consisted mostly of wet and cold, the strandings made an impression. I can’t claim that my sources were all that reliable but, after some consulting and reading, I came to believe that the cause of my troubles was a warped plate in the carburetor. This was known to occur now and then and trigger the symptoms I was seeing. Whatever it was I was reading indicated that replacing the factory unit with a Weber was the thing to do.
The Weber carb and some other bits had to be ordered which in those days meant snail mail in both directions. I half recall starting the installation then delaying it to get one more connector or something but the swap was eventually made and the car ran fine but not for long.
It’s not at all clear to me what happened but, as is obvious from the photo, it wasn’t good. That really is my car. The official story is that I was drunk and lost control. I also lost my license for several months. I don’t dispute the official story but neither can I confirm it.
What I remember is this. I finished the carburetor swap and set out for a test drive. I stopped at a bar, had one drink, and left for home. I came to in a hospital emergency room. The police dropped me off at home.
Friends I had chatted with at the bar confirmed that I had left after one drink. The location of the wreck was between the bar and my home but not on the most direct route. My blood alcohol level was above the limit though not by much. It’s possible that I stopped at another bar, had another drink — or more — and was headed home from that second stop. It’s also possible that I didn’t take the shortest path home because I was trying out the new carb and that the one drink, scotch & ice, was responsible for my BAC. Even though mentioning it may seem like excuse hunting, it’s possible that something in the newly connected throttle linkage failed and contributed to the accident.
I’ll never know for sure what happened but I will forever be thankful that no one else was involved and that the only damage was to me, my car, and a little landscaping.
My Previous Wheels: Chapter 19 — 1970 Chevrolet Nova
My next Wheels: Chapter 21 — 1979 Chevrolet G10
Again I must confess to a purloined photo gracing yet another My Wheels post. My car did not have the highly visible dual exhausts or fancy wheels of the pictured vehicle nor did it have the unseen 350 V8 and 4-speed floor shift. Mine was a 307 V8 with a 3-speed automatic. However, my car was, just like the one at right, a Cortez Silver 2-door with — and this is important — black vinyl top. It is the only vinyl topped car I’ve ever owned and one of very few I can even imagine owning without some level of embarrassment. While I doubt everyone agrees that the vinyl covering looks pretty good on this car it’s apparent that I’m not alone in thinking so. There are many full restorations of third generation Nova coupes that include a restored vinyl top. And that includes some high-end 396 Super Sports.
No. That’s not my Vega and that’s not me. It’s John DeLorean in the August 1970 issue of Motor Trend where he was singing the praises of Chevrolet’s new small car. The editors were singing right along with him and even adding some verses of their own. A month later, Car and Driver and Road & Track joined the choir. In February, Motor Trend named the Vega 2300 their 1971 “Car of the Year”. All this for a car that today has a reputation just slightly better than Yugo.
I could’t find any pictures of the dark green 1971 Kammback that I bought in the summer of 1974 so I took to the internet. I didn’t have much better luck there. This black & white photo of what is identified as a 1972 model is the best I could do. The shortage of photos surprised me but so too did the abundance of early praise. I can’t explain the absence of decent Kammback photos so maybe my surprise at that is justified. My surprise at the praise isn’t. In fact, what those magazines said about the car — great handling, sporty looks, comfortable ride — is exactly what I thought of it forty years ago. I was surprised only because I had forgotten.
We had apparently become accustomed to being a two car family at this point so, when the blue Nova became a non-runner, I went shopping for another beater. I bought a 1965 Corvair in Kentucky. It didn’t look as ragged as the one at right (which might actually be a ’66) but it probably was. It was a full-on stripper with 3 on-the-floor, bare rubber floor mats, and no perceivable options other than an AM radio and even that might have been standard.
It had begun life as a poor white Chevy and that was still the color of the top. The bottom had been painted fire engine red. It was a decent repaint and still pretty shiny. It was sort of a blend of these two cars minus the fancy wheel covers and all that chrome. It really didn’t look too bad from the proper distance. Up close, something of a reverse freckled look became noticeable. A few chips had appeared in the red part so that bits of the white part showed through. It was a mild case of reverse measles that gave the car “personality”. Yeah. That’s what it was. Personality.
This car came and went while the Opel served as primary transport. I believe it was a 1962 model but it might have been a ’63. It was powered by a straight 6 mated to a two-speed Powerglide. It is the only car I’ve ever owned that I made money on.
When it came time to replace the Dodge, we opted not for another American sedan but for a small import. However, since this was to be the family car, we made it a small import wagon, a 1969 Opel Kadett B Caravan. The family had, in fact, grown and there were now two young boys to fill the back seat. I don’t recall the purchase price but do remember that we bought the car from a couple professing to be witch and warlock and that the sickly Suzuki motorcycle was part of the deal.
A white Plymouth Barracuda became mine after the 
