The '56 - Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

 

This is about one car I owned, a 1956 Ford 2-door sedan. To be honest, my '56 Ford 2-door sedan didn't look as nice as the one above.

I don't remember when or where I bought the '56. I know we lived on Wall Street, in Coventry, CT. I used to drive it to school. My grades weren't very good so my mom took the keys away. I just changed the ignition switch. Then she took the plates off it. At that time in Connecticut, if you lost a plate, you could make a temporary plate. Yup, that's what I did. I think Mom gave up.

It was a 292 V8, with a 3-speed manual trans. I still had it when we moved to Avery Shores, Coventry (on the lake). I don't remember if it stopped running, but I got it into my head that it needed a bigger engine, a FE!

When the time came to make the swap, I couldn't find a manual transmission FE anywhere. My buddy Stan found one, a lowly 332, 2-barrel, at Parker Street Used Auto Parts, in Manchester. It was far from what I envisioned, but it was cheap.

So out came the 292, and in went the 332. It's a fairly simple swap; almost everything lines up. I did have to dimple the firewall for clearance.

I'm not sure what transmission I used; I think it was a top loader 4-speed. I know I cut a hole in the floor with a chisel so I could fit the shifter.

Being a Ford guy, and a bit of a scrounger, I found a driveshaft that fit. Sometimes it pays to have stuff laying around.

When I finally got it all together, and running, I thought it was time to take it for a spin. Except I was alone and couldn't put the hood back on by myself. No problem, I'd just go hoodless!

Off I went, cautiously at first to make sure everything worked. Then I decided to make a loop through downtown (as much as a downtown as Coventry had). I went up the hill from our house to South Street, turned left and drove to Cross Street, to Lake Street, and down Monument Hill Road. Just before I got to Main Street the red lights of the cop car came on. Busted! But for what?

The car was legally registered, I had insurance and a license. Oh well I pulled over and walked back to the cop car. I knew the cop, he was dating or married to one of our next door neighbor's daughter. His name was Joey. 

I asked Joey why he pulled me over. He said "you don't have a hood on the car." He started flipping though his little book (vehicle code) of things to harass people like me but he couldn't find the right section. I was standing by the window as he went page by page when I said "You missed it, go back a page." There it was, the section that said a car had to have a hood. 

I gave Joey my sob story (no one was helping me, I'm only testing it, blah, blah, blah). A bit exasperated he told me to go home and find someone to help. No ticket.

Later that summer, one late night after work, my friend Stan and I didn't feel like going to bed so we took the '56 out for a ride, just a ride. I think we had made a loop around the lake and were almost back home (we were on South St, near Lakewood Drive) when once again those darn red lights!

This time it wasn't Joey but my nemesis Ballard. He walked up to the driver's window (it was hot and humid so the window was already down), demanded license, registration, and insurance. I handed everything to him. He looked at all and began questioning me. "What are you doing out so late?" "Just driving around." Then he shined the light in Stan's face, "And what are you doing?" Stan just looked back at him and said "Riding with him." Duh! 

Ballard wasn't the brightest cop. When he stopped us he damn well knew who he was stopping (I was fairly well known in Coventry). I think he thought he finally caught me. But he didn't, because all we were doing was driving around because it was too hot to sleep and we weren't tired. 

Like so many cars I've owned I have no idea what I did with the '56. I must have sold it. 

Also like so many cars I've owned I really didn't do what was needed with it. Oh sure, I stuffed in a bigger engine. But it was a junkyard dog. Back then I never thought about better brakes, or suspension, or of actually finishing a car. The '56 could have been a nice ride. I could have finished the interior; I mean it never even had carpets!

That's part of the folly of youth. It's sad that I was never one to document my cars. There are no pictures of most of the cars I've owned.