STORY PAGE
My 65 Continental
It was spring and the woodchucks were waiting. It had been 5 months since deer season and I was ready to assault the lowlands and
pastures for the little critters. To sneak up on a woodchuck was not easy. They are very wary and their hearing is excellent. I had a friend’s younger
brother with us. I used my 65 Lincoln convertible. You may snicker at someone taking this bright yellow boat hunting, but I had already gone places that most
people wouldn’t take their run of the mill Chevys.
We parked on a farmer’s dirt road and went over the knoll to a favorite spot. I was using a bolt action Remington .243 caliber. It was
my favorite gun. By varying different bullet weights and powder loads, it was an excellent rifle for varmints to deer. With the ten-power scope and the
particular load I was using, a shot of 300 yards on a windless day was almost easy.
On this particular day, at this particular spot, I was sighting in on a chuck. Not 300 yards, but a good distance away. In my mind I was remembering the three-inch rule and determining whether to aim above or below my target, when I heard a beep, beep, beep. I asked my young friend to see what was going on.
The farmer was stuck behind my Lincoln. I tossed my keys to the youngster and asked him if he would like to move it. His eyes lit up. I
turned back to the chuck. The chuck had returned to his hole. I waited patiently. Soon he popped his head back up.
Some may ask why I didn’t move the car myself. It was a macho thing. My friend and I competed for these little fellows. I had edge on
him shooting. (Only because I had the .243) He had an edge spotting them. He had and still does manage to see game before I do. The one who spotted the chuck
first gets the first shot. I did not wish to lose this opportunity.
The shot was made. The youngster had not returned yet so we went to check. He was standing by the rear quarter panel on the passenger
side of the door. I figured I had a flat. When I got closer, I realized a flat would have been good.
If you are not familiar with the 65 Continental, let me explain the doors. It is a four door. The doors, like the vehicle are large, heavy, and built like a tank. [I once parked on a slight slope (sideways) and my wife could not open her door.] The back doors were called suicide doors. They opened in the opposite direction as those of the front.
This said, when my friend’s brother moved the car, the rear door must have been partially open. It
caught on a nearby tree and was bent all the way around, almost to the back bumper. I was angry, but at myself. I was at fault for tossing him the keys. I
told him so. I also told him that the insurance would cover most of the repairs, not to worry.
We did have a problem. The door would not shut. It was sprung open. I could get it just a little over half way, no further. Then the
three of us tried. First I parked it on a slope. (This allowed us to use the weight of the door, once we were ½ way. Then the three of us sort of rocked it
back and forth and then with a final push slammed it home. I locked it.
We continued to hunt the remainder of the day. That evening I called my insurance man, told him the door had flew open and caught a
tree. (True) He suggested a place for repairs and I arranged a time and day. When I arrived at the garage. I explained to the owner what had happened and how
difficult it was to spring the door shut. No problem, he had a man to handle it. He called his mechanic to open the door. He couldn’t. I explained it was
locked. He lifted the lock and opened the door. Actually he pushed the button,
and the door lifted him with such force that he was lucky to land in an area
where there were no sharp objects.
The next time I saw the Lincoln it was as good as new.
It wasn’t the best-looking car I owned; it wasn’t the fastest, or the most expensive. It was and still is my favorite. | |
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