Do you remember your first? Your first puppy, first kiss, first hot rod? I remember the Tardel family first ‘new car’. Now, as a rule, all of the Tardel family cars were used and old. The family car was - believe it or not - a 1956 Chevy 4 Door Station Wagon. No seat belts and no air conditioning, but hey, the radio worked. This car was my mom’s get around town mobile. She carted us to soccer games, BMX races and drive-in movies.

One day, my dad came home with the happy news that we he had a new car “in the works and on the way”. My mom was ecstatic. She couldn’t wait to see her new ride. For the first time in her life, she was going to have a brand, new car. It was the mid-70’s. So as a rule, your new cars consisted primarily of 4-door gas-guzzling behemoths. No stranger to steel cars, she couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel of a mid-70’s bruiser. The excitement permeated the household. It was all we could talk about.

Now, you are probably wondering why Vern waited to bring the car home. Most kids remember their dads coming up the driveway with the new car - a special spontaneous surprise. Why did Vern decide to announce the imminent arrival of the new car and its actual delivery date of two weeks later? Did he do this to build excitement in the househould? Was it a special order automobile? Did he buy one and decide to have a custom upholstery job? No.

At the time, my dad had a contract with the local Budget Rent-A-Car to do their collision work. This was a pretty sweet deal. Brand new Fords with twisted bumpers and dented doors. Until the Pinto arrived. Vern was probably minding his own business that day. When an unbeatable deal came his way. He had the option to buy a slightly used, totally wrecked Pinto. He jumped on the chance. He worked hard and long to get it back in order. Eventually, word spread to my mom that “today was the day”. She would have her new mystery car and soon.

I dinstinctly remember standing outside the house on the driveway waiting for my dad to get home. My mom, my brother and me. It was like Christmas morning. We could see the yellow hood heading towards us. A trail of dust kicking up behind the car on the old road. The sound of the 4 cyclinder ringing our ears. Then, the car came up to us, my dad leaning out the window, smiling like a fool. And then we saw….the flames. Starting from the rear, the flames ran up the side of the car. Red to orange to yellow.  No, they weren’t real flames, they were painted. I’m sure my mom thought it wasn’t so bad. My dad did do great flame jobs and had quite a reputation for his talents at the time. But upon closer inspection, I’m sure her heart sank when she saw the 18×18″commerical grade “Flammable” sticker my dad decided to slap on the decklid.

That just about sums up my dad’s sense of humor. My mom’s daily driver was now a rolling statement on Ford’s highly publicized and much criticized safety standards. But, there was no choice. She carted us around town for years in that brightly painted and highly fuel efficient Pinto.

And you thought you had a tough childhood….

NOTE: the car has since been painted black, but the flames and sticker are original.

As a side note: as I was writing this, I decided to do a little Ford Pinto research. My favorite find is the reference to Ford’s early pitch “Pinto leaves you with that warm feeling.”