The Beast

For my first two years in college, I didn’t own a car but when I had to get a second job to afford school, I needed some transportation. My older sister sold me a 1968 Ford Galaxy 500 with 289 v-8 engine and 4-speed manual transmission. I was in heaven.

Heaven evolved into Hell after I installed the third clutch in six months and the head gasket began leaking steam. I let go of that car for $200 which was exactly what I’d paid for it, but there I was with $200 and no car. I purchase the only thing in my price range — a bona fide ranch truck.

The Beast was about the ugliest vehicle on the road, but it got a humble college student from point A to point B with relative dependability. The great thing about the Beast was that in the almost three years I owned it, not one single idiot ever cut me off in traffic — and if you’re familiar with Austin, Texas drivers, that’s a serious record. That old truck was like a mobile billboard that shouted “Uninsured Sociopath”.

In the Spring of ’78, a friend and I decided to drive that monster up some steep hills on the back side of his father’s ranch (the Beast’s original home). As fate would have it, I hit a large piece of granite camouflaged behind the small Mesquite tree I intended to flatten. The drag link bent, and the front left wheel turned in about forty-five degrees.

When I tried to back up, the Beast gained a soul and decide on its own to turn perpendicular to the steep grade. We would have rolled a hundred yards down that hill if a sturdy Cedar tree hadn’t rescued us and prevented us from rolling further than about ninety degrees. The next morning, we sobered up, went into town and bought a new drag link at the local Chevy dealership.

The Beast was conveniently laying on its side so installing the new drag link was a snap. My friend fired up the John Deere and pulled the beast back onto its feet, holding it in place long enough for me to get it headed back down the hill. The funny thing is you could barely spot the Beast’s new whiskey bumps among the acne blemishes on its surface.

A year, a new engine, and a wedding later, I was still driving the Beast although my new bride viewed it as the first thing she intended to change about me. One Spring evening while menacing the local streets in North Austin, the Beast’s alternator gave up the ghost and died. I called a wrecker to haul it to that Austin Chevy dealer who had recently installed the new engine.

Being completely perplexed, I did what every smart college kid would do; I called my mom. She recommended I go to the Chevy house and ask what they would give me for the Beast as a parts car since it had a brand-new engine. Then, I was supposed to offer them that money as a down payment on a new truck but hold back enough to make my first two payments since I was two months away from graduation.

Apparently, the salesman I met with was a drug addict in bad need of a fix because he went for it. Paula and I drove away from that car dealer in a brand-new Chevy Luv miniature pickup that got six times the mileage the Beast had gotten. The only downside was getting used to driving that non-threatening new vehicle in the Roller-Derby of Austin traffic.

I woke up thinking about the Beast a few nights ago and what I remember most was that I felt free when driving that old junker. I wasn’t the least bit worried about someone’s door nicking it in a parking lot. In fact, two drunk guys in a classic Pontiac Firebird once rear-ended me and drove three feet under that drill stem bumper. I just shoved it into four-wheel drive and drove off of their now-totaled car, taking their radiator with me. The accident might have scratched a little rust off that rear bumper but nothing more.

Recently, I began considering the purchase of a new truck, Problem is that the exact same truck I’m currently driving, and bought for $19,000 in 2011, now costs $73,000 — four times what I paid for my first house. Where could I even park a truck that expensive without fear of it being scratched? Man, I’d love to have the old Beast back again, although I might also have to start the search for a new wife if that happened.

A meeting of great minds who think alike