<kuid2:78865:570240:1> 46_ford_tudor_black

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One of my earliest memories is my mother driving a 46 Ford Tudor, black in color, and getting pulled over by a motorcycle cop in Tacoma who was hiding behind a billboard. My mother who was never noted for having a particularly strong constitution, was reduced to tears by the incident, and the cop was less than congenial.This was long before the current consensus wherein you cannogt tell anyone the truth about anything for fear it may hurt their feelings. Weeks later the brakes on that old Ford went out while she was descending the 11th St hill in Tacoma, and although she valiantly tried to slow the old car down by opening her door and dragging her foot on the street, she wound up hitting a telephone pole and that spelled the end for that old car. I missed it, as a 3 year old, I was totally infatuated by the locking steeriung column, and the healthy V8 sound the old flathead made from the tailpipes. I actually managed to score one of my own as a teenager, but the project got derailed by several other readily available vehicles at the time, among them a 57 Chevy Bel Air. So the old fat fender never saw the road.