The Whippet

In the 30's, Dad bought us a new family car--a second-hand Whippet. Unlike the big black Buick sedans that were prevalent, this was a small 4-door, in greyish color, looking much more like an upright box or one of those cars they transported criminals in to prison. The windows were square, and you had no vents to open for a breeze. It was peppy. and the motor had a brisk put-put sound and a horn that said "OOOOD-la!"loud enough to scare any walker off the road.

Of course we loved it. It went about 25 miles an hour, which, with the loudness of the motor, made it seem like today's 80 mph, and we thought that was a tremendously high rate of speed. We would hold on to the bars on the sides for dear life.

One thing we didn't like were the rust spots, of which there were many. Frank and Johnny and I got the idea we wanted to repaint the car. We got permission, perhaps because our parents thought that would keep us out of worse mischief. We were fairly dexterous children, and we promised we would finish the job once we started.

One day when our parents had a day of many errands to accomplish,
Frank got the paint and brushes out of the garage, and we all set to work. By the time Mom and Dad returned from whatever their day's chores were, the car paint job was nearly completed. Mom and Dad were very surprised, and proud of the neat job we had done, and made sure we finished the job. They were a little surprised at the color--robin's egg blue! I have to say, Mom and Dad always encouraged our initiative. After all, they had forgotten to stipulate the color, and just assumed it would be black. They acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be driving around town in a robin's egg blue Whippet.