I Was a Young American
Ka-Thunk.
The Hoover was a red beast. Probably 4,500 pounds of creased and rusted steel. It didn’t take much to open the door, but if you didn’t check its momentum it was just as likely to rebound about its hinges and trap your shin as it slammed shut. The Hoover was all about Newton’s First Law, something I would soon learn about from freshman physics in 1st Mod.
It was 1977, and everything was starting to get rebranded: I was Mike then, not Michael or even MTM. The earliest efforts at rebranding education were in full swing, too. TAC, Modules (Mods for short), Rapping in Religion…Pi-Hi-X-I was doing everything it could to move itself away from my mother’s parochial Pope Pius The Eleventh High School.
Pius had almost 50 years of inertia going when I was sucked into The Hoover with my brother Jim and sister Lynn on that first day of ninth grade. Jim turned the key and watts coursed through the cables, phase-changing from surging electrical current into grinding mechanical motion, and the small-block Chevy burped to life. A black cloud of vaporized oil puked out of the exhaust as Jim revved the engine, coughing to clear the phlegm as he lit his second cigarette of the day. He kicked down the idle and popped the PowerGlide into gear, and we were off to school.
Once it got going The Hoover felt like it would never stop, like it was barreling downhill–which it was, in a way, ’cause we had the back-end so jacked up all you could see out the rear window was sky. That’s how it got its name, you know…with the rear all haunched up, the front springs sagged and the gaping chrome grille inhaled the pavement. Add to that the flipped-over air cleaner and the glass-pack mufflers, and The Hoover screamed Vroooom.
Jim was cool in the driver seat, a white t-shirt with that pack of smokes rolled into the sleeve. Lynn was in the back seat, all platinum blonde and sophomore scowl. Me, I had some butterflies. I had owned junior high, felt like I knew everyone I needed to know. But here I was starting over again. What would 2000 students look like? And other than Jim and Lynn, I didn’t know a single one of them. I started to feel a bit queasy…it was the exhaust fumes coming up through the rust holes in the floorboards.
Jim kicked the glovebox door and it flopped open. He grabbed the white block of plastic crammed in amongst all the other detritus and shoved it into the slot in the radio, like a punch in the mouth.
Oooh, Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am!
And the soundtrack to freshman year kicked into gear. The eight-track was David Bowie’s “Changes One” and being one of two eight-track cassettes that lived in The Hoover, it accompanied either the ride to or from school every day. Space Oddity, Ziggy Stardust, Suffragette City, Rebel Rebel, Fame, and of course Young Americans.
I’ve never been able to hear lyrics as much more than verbal notes, but Changes One was a herald to me, the doorway to an exciting, scary, perverse and challenging world. It turned junior high innocence a sappy golden hue, and put the pedal to the floorboards on my passage to adulthood. The world started to get a whole lot bigger in high school. No matter how big The Hoover was, it could never contain the chords of change.
This MTM guest post is part of the series The Soundtrack of Life. If this is your first visit to the series, please click here for the first installment and click here for the second installment, and click here for the third. Thanks for your contributions and insights in the comments. They always enrich this blog, especially in a series like this one.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
- Smile Though Your Heart Is Aching « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Worthless « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Hooked on Classics « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- The Very Thought of You « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Christmas in…..August « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- The Day the Music Died « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- A Kind of Magic « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- We Are Young « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Take Me Out « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Let There Be Peace on Earth « The Accidental Cootchie Mama
Big old clunky cars from America! they defined the USA around the world – why were they so big whilst our were tinny little wobblers always breaking down?
Jim, I told MTM he had to answer your question. He promised me he would, so stand by.
Why does America do everything big? I fear I will have to re-read my Alexis de Tocqueville, as he seemed to have us all figured out back in the 1830s. Lacking that, I’ll offer that we are a big country with a big ego and a fierce competitive spirit. Being big does not equal being great, and The Hoover was no exception…many a sub-zero morning where she refused to fire, and it was either the jumper cables or the bus.
Cheers – I recall the photo of your old hybrid motorbike from a few weeks ago.
When Starsky and Hutch first aired over here – the nation was agog at Starsky’s red car and the throaty V8 roar it made. When David Soul announced that the engine noise was dubbed, a small piece of America’s lustre was lost to a generation of kids.
Similarly James Garner’s car in The Rockford Files was held in awe. But not Columbo’s.
This tells us two things . Firstly every crappy US Detective series clogged our airwaves and secondly the perception of the US motor car compared to our own was slighlty bonkers in many respects. Hollywood I suppose.
Better to be a good people than a great country. And therein lies Amercia’s and Britain’s greatest strength.
Best wishes.
That first car and the drive to school so all your friends can see it is a defining moment for a young man. In my case, it was a ’54 Olds 88 that ran on only 4 of the 8 pistons and sorta rock and rolled since the shocks were mostly shot. My first drive in that heap was to summer football practice as a rising Junior and it was so cool to be driving into the parking lot all by my ownself. Rites of passage and all that.
Is this the car that you drove in the snow/ice storm, the one where you had to hang your head out the window to see because the wipers didn’t work?
No, that was different big car, a 1963 Ford Galaxie I was surrogate caretaker for in grad school in Texas. Oddly enough, the car my father owned when I was born was a 1963 1/2 Galaxie….and the three Maher boys still own the 427 cubic inch dual-quad engine that was in that car (it is buried under everything in Jim’s garage).
I was asking Lou, as he relayed a similar experience eons ago.
I get all of your car experiences confused, because you have so many of them. This one today, I’d never heard, and I love it.
I was never sure if The Hoover was cool or laughable…but I do know it was loud and everyone knew we were arriving.
The one that I had to hang my head out the window to drive in snow and frost was the 1964 VW bug, the darn things were so air tight that the heater would not flow at all without a couple of windows open and then it took at least 10 minutes of driving for the windows to START to clear. OY!!
Killer MTM, killer. My first rides – those belonging to my friends, were all big American metal hunks. A Mustang Mach 1, a Plymouth of somesort, and a Le Mans I believe. Mine had to be different, of course. Mine was a 1971 MG BGT. Loved that car. Can’t wait to see what Bill Smithem chimes in here with, not to mention Cheryl and her early exploits.
Oh, but my music was Jethro Tull, Genesis, Yes, King Crimson and the like. Guess my head was in a different place.
And if you get the chance, check out the eBook ‘Flaming Floorboards’ by Steve Tom. It will bring back maybe too many memories. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B007IO3PMQ/ref=as_li_ss_til?tag=palmettobugdigit
Here you go… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5i-qcqX-yk
Or maybe … http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Tdu4uKSZ3M
Certainly listened to a wide range of music, even earlier in life. With high school, I quickly moved into a broader catalog, including Pink Floyd (first album to be played on my first hi-fidelity stereo–Technics SA-300– was Dark Side of the Moon), The Who, Genesis and Jethro Tull, etc. Here’s the daily challenge: What was the other 8-track in The Hoover’s glovebox?
Not to be confused, The Hoover was not my car…it was handed down from my Mom to Jim, when Mom bought a little Chevy Vega (which made all sorts of sense for a family of 6). My first car was/is a black (of course) 1969 Oldsmobile Cutlass S W-31, a pretty rare classic musclecar. I owned it up until it was surreptitiously sent to the crusher from the shed it was stored in while I was living/working in Paris; I still own most of the parts for that car.
Also buried in Jim’s garage………….
Barbra Streisand.
No, Lou, it was not Barbara Streisand. Not Abba, or Cher, or The Captain and Tenille.
The sounds of my childhood are Country Crooners and Mom and Dad dancing. The songs of my summers as a teenager were 45′s from Howard’s brother. My first boyfriend/husband/Sterling’s father encompass the Beach Boys driving the Austin Healy Sprite with the top down….Oh, I really like that memory…I think I’m going to stay there for awhile. Thanks Andra.
I love thinking of you in that Austin with your long blonde hair.
My first day of college. Live Cream Vol 2 “Politician” cranked. One of my dorm mates comes running in. “Is this the new Black Sabbeth?” I didn’t speak to him for the next year.
Check out this video on YouTube:
My first car? Some sort of Mercury Station Wagon with push button gears. A 60 or 61 I think
Yesterday’s post inspired a search that yielded the soundtrack which accompanied my life from high school Freshman to beyond the birth of my second son: http://www.digitaldreamdoor.com/pages/best_songs50-69.html — lots of terrific memories here! Thanks.
Today, MTM, you’ve inspired me to go digging in the old photo boxes…. Hope I still have the snapshot of the first and only car that ever truly created enthusiasm in my totally feminine heart — 1965 Mustang, Phoenician yellow with a black landau top — loved that car! If I find the photo, I’ll try to get it on here. This post truly did bring back memories of my high school days (long before yours, but some tales are timeless).
I think I know someone else who wishes they had a 65 Mustang (convertible)…..if she gets me my Ducati, maybe she’ll get a Mustang in change.
Here’s the one I had: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=3798323080234&set=a.3234424143113.2126649.1341961177&type=3&theater I was devastated when my then hubby decided to trade it in for something else!
I must confess to not knowing what a Ducati was (there’s that not caring much about things motorized part of me rearing its head again) but after looking, it would seem “a Mustang in change” might be a fair offer…
I drove a 1956 Chevy to school by my mid-highschool years. And no, I am not that old. LOL! It was “old” even then, and it was big, with no power steering or power brakes, but it was pretty! And it had a radio, which was all that mattered to me. Music plus melodrama connected to the music is probably what got me through highschool. I think no matter when we were in school, music defined us somehow. Or it feels like music can bring us back to that place in time almost instantaneously! And the first day of high school is terrifying!
I always enjoy what you share of your experiences, MTM! 
Debra
While a lot of movies set around high school have great soundtracks, I don’t think any movie captures the essence of it like American Graffiti….high school, hormones, hot rods and rock and roll.
Oh my gosh, this so reminds me of my ’69 Chevy Impala that puked oil out the exhaust like a refinery smokestack. It only had one setting for the heater – LOW. The other settings were broken, of course. But boy could I pile the friends in that car!
Yeah, The Hoover was a 1969 Chevy Kingswood wagon….an Impala with room for four more in the back-back.
My favourite people are Bowie fans, Phil included. There’s a pleasing wild light in their eyes. Have you ever seen the English drama Life On Mars? A must for all Bowie fans everywhere.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_on_Mars_(TV_series)
Andra will have to affirm whether I have that ‘wild light,’ but I am always happy to be a favourite.
‘Effen Awesome MTM. This is a fast slam back to the future.
So, I didn’t have a car until I was senior in HS. We had Junior Hi, and only went to HS as a sophomore. So, I arrived there riding in style with my BFF in her Ford Falcon Station Wagon (see it here http://i.pbase.com/o6/26/12626/1/75803081.6nVbk1nt.HuntingtonBeachCruisers071loDSC_8143.jpg). Now when I finally had a car, it was the super cool Plymouth Belvedere, (see it here http://flickriver.com/photos/autohistorian/4436643755/) with push buttons on the dash to change gears. The car’s name was Clyde, because to quote the song by Ray Stevens, “there weren’t no animal alive who could keep up with Clyde once he got started” Listen to Ray Stevens. http://youtu.be/ZNigDOHz4j0
There was something elemental about those solid steel cars of the Sixties. Even with all the windows rolled up, you still felt a part of the road and wrapped up in the experience of rolling metal.
Amen. And I always felt safe, whether or not that was true. My 1980 Mercedes 300D was like that. Solid! When I slammed the door, it always made a good “thunk”. I miss that car.
Dang, I’m being held in limbo / purgatory because I added too many links.
David Bowie just rocks. My kids beg for me to play Bowie and the Beatles far more than they do Beyonce. I’m actually OK with Beyonce. But I still consider their excellent taste a parenting win.
My lack of knowledge of David Bowie is really embarrassing. I should probably do something about that. I think I was completely out of touch with pop culture at that age, though.
In high school I drove my parents hand me down Plymouth – a 1974 Gran Fury III. It was a two door tank with enough room for me and six of my closest friends. It snacked on alternators and burned oil (I’d add more when the lifters started to rattle) and it ran like stink and left me stranded many times. I loved and hated that car. It evidently finished its life in a demolition derby in Kansas while I was in the service.
I also had Changes One and it got played in heavy rotation, along with Led Zeppelin and Billy Idol and Pink Floyd and I forget what all else. I’m not a lyric listener either. My family teases me about it.
Oh, and you NEED that Ducati. Yes. Absolutely.
Stop fueling that need, Steve. I do not have enough pennies for the Ducati he wants by the time he turns 50.
Oh, and it was starters! The Plymouth ate starters. It only went through one (or two) alternators. Memory is a fickle thing . . .