Sorry, this is a story about a ride, not political

I know many no longer care for ride stories (jes kiddin') but I'll try once more. Actually this is about one ride and two drives.

Lucas, The Good Ole Days, and Junk Cars

As you know, my wife didn't take to motorcycles. That's why I was Solo1

However, six years before I met my Phyllis (and before I entered the service), I did have a few dates with a Barbara H, a very nice girl who played the piano.

I do remember that Barbara's dad was very strict so it took me a time to persuade him to let her ride on the back of my 1946 Matchless 500 thumper.

One night (big mistake) I rode over to her house and she climbed aboard the pillion seat of the Flying M.

I instructed her in the art of raising off the seat when she saw a bump coming as the Matchless was a hard tail. For some reason she became a little uneasy.

Her uneasiness left when she noted that I was riding very conservatively and she started enjoying the ride. A Good Start...................for awhile!

We headed out highway 37 out of Ft. Wayne and had just crossed over the railroad tracks when The Prince of Darkness struck!

The headlight, which had been putting out considerable candlepower (about 20) flickered and went out. Probably riding too fast and the wind put out the flame!

The Lucas generator (that's what it was called, I don't know what it generated but it certainly wasn't voltage) took a serious dump and left us without lights. The battery ,of course, wasn't charged since it was ignored by the generator most of the time anyway.

We made it back to her place without lights. (The magneto ignition WAS reliable). The advantage was that her dad didn't see us coming, what with a black headlight, a black motorcycle and a black night, and she snuck back into the house.

I took her on two more dates after that but in a cage. The first cage, a beatup '36 Chevy left us stranded in the pickup lane of a drive up restaurant after the engine stalled and the starter jammed against the ring gear of the flywheel. Four or five guys in the cars behind us jumped out and pushed us to one side.

The second date was in a 1942 Pontiac that I traded the Chevy in for. The salesman wasn't too sharp or the Chevy was behaving itself, i don't remember.

What I do remember is that it took a good deal of talking to get Barb to go with me once more. I assured her that the Pontiac was nothing like the Chevy. How right I was.

The Chevy had a generator quite like a Lucas. The Pontiac didn't. In fact, the charging system was quite good. The battery was kept fully charged and ready to put out full power. I found that out.

We were driving down Hanna street in Ft. Wayne when I noticed that the lights stated dimming, along with the interior getting brighter. The wiring under the dash had caught on fire with smoke rolling into the car. After coming to a screeching halt and yelling "Get out of the car!!!" I reached under the dash and pulled the culprit wire until it broke and the smoke then stopped. The wire evidently was only there for heat and light as everything still worked. We made it back to her house, however with a little uneasiness.

Funny thing. we never had any more dates after that.

Ever since that time I have been partial to new cars.

Solo 1