Love the Ford
August 14, 2008
So I have an old Ford. A 1971 Bronco Sport to be exact. It’s blue. I call him Friday. I really don’t know why. I think I came up with the name when I was single and living for the weekend. Saturday would have been lame.
I got this old beast from my Grandfather about 8 years ago. I had two VW Bugs at the time, a ‘59 I kept in storage that I was a too scared to drive regularly and a ‘76 that was my daily driver for about two years. It was the ugliest thing you would have ever seen. People would rear-end this thing and drive off, just because. No respect I tell yah.
Maybe it was out of pity. Maybe he was just trying to empty his garage out. Maybe it was because I was the only grandkid that had any sort of love or respect for old cars. Whatever the reason, my folks called me up one day and told me he was looking to hand it down to me. For years the older grandkids have dreamed, plotted and begged for the keys to this hardly driven, rarely used piece of family nostalgia with no luck. Thrilled is the only word I can use.
So, I ended up driving out east to Hermiston, Or one awesome summer to pick up my new wheels. Three hour drive there, five plus hours back. Enough time to learn SOME of the quirks this thing has. I ended up replacing a perfectly good battery at the dam near The Dalles because it wouldn’t turn over after a pit stop. Actually it has a habit of being in reverse when you think it’s in park. It doesn’t turn over in reverse. That was an unknown waste of 60 bucks. Oh well.
That very battery lasted me until about five months ago. I was planning to pick up the Bronco for the weekend but I had to jump it to get it started. Let it run for a few to charge the battery before taking off and stopped to get gas. Once the gas was pumped it wouldn’t start back up. Apparently gas stations look down on getting jumps on the laptop near their pumps so they asked me to push it into the parking lot to get it started again. A nice fellow in a newer Chevy pickup lent me his battery and the Bronco started right up. That’s when it started acting strange. At stop lights the blinkers weren’t blinking, my tunes were going in and out and the headlights were dimming whenever I stopped giving it gas. None of which were good signs.
So instead of a sweet weekend of cruising, I parked it again. Confirmed with some mechanic buddies that the alternator needed to be replaced. And so he sat, all alone for a few months outside my folks’ place.
Third anniversary was coming up so Tristan wanted to do something nice for me and Friday. She shopped. She’s getting really good at finding deals on just about anything you can think of. She’s becoming a bit of a coupon junkie as well. More power to her, as long as she keeps it under control and organized.
Last week she came across a used alternator for $25 bucks and then she helped me put it in. Girlie hands really do come in handy sometimes. She got into places my man hands couldn’t. Took about an hour to swap parts and turn the key for the first time in months. A final jump from my old man’s Chevy and the Bronco’s 302 was purring like some kind of kitten, not a cute one, but a kitten none the less.
Turns out this is only the beginning of work we’re going to be doing on the Bronco this summer. Tristan’s still shopping for parts and we’re going to see about getting Friday in tip top shape for some summer cruising, if the gas prices don’t go back up. I love old cars and the women who help get them running.
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