Chapter 14

Cora

The watermelon head smash wasn’t Chuck’s claim to fame. When he was four I traded a running fifty dollar Corvair van (contradiction of terms; Covair and running.) that Hairy had purchased in Greybull and drove home, for a 1967 Chevy short narrow pickup with a big block 366 GM truck engine.

I had this 1965 Impala SS 396 with a factory four speed ... and problems. Dirty Sally was a lowrider ... so low the exhaust pipes were on rods and springs because the railroad tracks would have torn off the exhaust pipes. It had your normal lowrider headers and dual four barrel carbs, electronic ignition, custom interior with homemade buckets. eight track player, blue-dot lights and crappy paint.

Railroad tracks would scrape the exhaust backwards on the rods and the springs would pull the mufflers back... (Rumble rumble ... scrape ... BLAT BLAST ... rumble rumble.). I bought it like that ... cheap. But the engine was on its last legs ... trade the Corvair for the pickup. Fifty bucks for a 366 big block?

You bet. The problem with the pickup?

The owner was an alcoholic ... serious alcoholic ... court ordered medication. One of those medications makes a non alcoholic partaker go into convulsions. There was a weeks worth in a medicine dispenser. Under the seat.