| Blake's and Dad's Ford Story Return to Blake's Exhibit RETURN TO BLAKE ART |
| At the end of the summer of 1994 Blake started to school in Savannah, Georgia, attending SVA. He was a charter class member and had to live in the Ramada Inn because they had no dormitory space. Blake's Mom moved him up and I followed a couple of days later, driving the Galaxie. No problems were encountered during the trip, but lots of stops were made to check the oil and put in gasoline. It averaged about 14 mpg and about 100 miles to the quart of oil. During Blake's freshman year a flood occurred in Savannah, and the ford got flooded. Blake had to have the fuel pump replaced and much of the trunk had been flooded. The ford continued to get Blake where he needed to go. In the summer of 1995, Blake's Mom and Dad came to get him for the summer. The car had some problems and had not been running. Before we left Savannah, we had to get a mechanic to fix some things. We left for Spring with me driving the ford and Mom following in her car. About 150 miles down the road, new problems began. Right after we filled up, I cranked the car and it started making a tremendous noise. It was now dark and we were afraid of what might happen to us. We were in a real dilemma. I will always believe that an Angel came. A black man in an 18 wheeler saw our plight. He suggested spraying the pulley with WD-40 and then gave Blake's Dad the WD-40, insisting that he not be paid. The Lord was with us. The noise stopped. (Ironically, the Angel truck driver's last name was Roberts (my Great Grandfather's last name). This was our first Angel with the old ford (or maybe one had always been with the car). We spent the night somewhere close to Tallahassee, Florida and left out again the next morning. We traveled all day and were into Louisiana as dark approached. Dad was still driving the ford and following Mom. We soon learned what the noise was from the night before. |
| In 1993, at the end of Blake's junior year at Spring High School, Blake's great Uncle Frank Farrell Ode to Uncle Frank (our golfing friend) passed away. That summer Blake acquired a 1964 Galaxie 500 that belonged to Uncle Frank. The car had been sitting up for some time, but with some minor mechanic work, Blake and his Dad (that's me) got it running well enough to go from Malakoff, Texas to Spring, Texas. It was the usual thing with old cars; spark plugs, points, fuel pumps and other general repairs. By the end of the summer and at the beginning of Blake's senior year, the car was running pretty good. Blake drove it to school every day and it seemed to handle ok. The engine only had about 50,000 miles on it and was it good condition. The air conditioner went out, but that did not distract from the car. Every week there was something new that had to be repaired. The hardest thing was finding parts, until Dad found Dennis Carpenter. This is a place in North Carolina that usually has what you need. At the end of the summer of 1994 Blake started to school in Savannah, Georgia, attending SVA. He was a charter class member and had to live in the Ramada Inn because they had no dormitory space. Blake's Mom moved him up and I followed a couple of days later, driving the Galaxie. No problems were encountered during the trip, but lots of stops were made to check the oil and put in gasoline. It averaged about 14 mpg and about 100 miles to the quart of oil. During Blake's freshman year a flood occurred in Savannah, and the ford got flooded. Blake had to have the fuel pump replaced and much of the trunk had been flooded. The ford continued to get Blake where he needed to go. In the summer of 1995, Blake's Mom and Dad came to get him for the summer. The car had some problems and had not been running. Before we left Savannah, we had to get a mechanic to fix some things. We left for Spring with me driving the ford and Mom following in her car. About 150 miles down the road, new problems began. Right after we filled up, I cranked the car and it started making a tremendous noise. It was now dark and we were afraid of what might happen to us. We were in a real dilemma. I will always believe that an Angel came. A black man in an 18 wheeler saw our plight. He suggested spraying the pulley with WD-40 and then gave Blake's Dad the WD-40, insisting that he not be paid. The Lord was with us. The noise stopped. (Ironically, the Angel truck driver's last name was Roberts (my Great Grandfather's last name). This was our first Angel with the old ford (or maybe one had always been with the car). We spent the night somewhere close to Tallahassee, Florida and left out again the next morning. We traveled all day and were into Louisiana as dark approached. Dad was still driving the ford and following Mom. We soon learned what the noise was from the night before. CONT NEXT COLUMN |
| Ford story continued... Dad's lights started to dim... and they got dimmer and dimmer. Getting Mom's attention was not happening, as Dad tried frantically to signal that there was a problem. Since it was the generator, and Dad was running off the battery, the ford's horn would barely blow. I have been in a situation where your battery is the only thing still going and when the juice is gone, everything shuts down and you are not going anywhere. I made it to an exit that read Crawley, which conjured up bad memories in itself. I remembered from years ago being hauled to the Crawley jail for passing a Louisiana highway patrol while doing 55 in a 55. I had never forgotten the day that the Crawley police had turned our vacation into a trip back home with no money left after the fine was paid. All of these things are going through my mind as the car is dying and I'm trying to find a safe place to get, so that I will be out of the way. I finally coast to a stop partially into an intersection. As I pull over and survey the situation, a policeman approaches in his vehicle. To my surprise, he gets out of his car and helps me push it through the intersection. Now I have an Angel Cop! Quite a different treatment than our previous encounter. He was the nicest person. He gave us advise telling us that the Crawley Inn was just right there and a restaurant was handy. He even helped me push the car into a vacant parking lot. God provided us with an Angel cop, a restaurant and a place to spend the night. In the mean time, Pat figured out that something had happened, and doubled back and found me. Of course, the first thing that she thought when she saw the Cop was, "Oh, no, here we go again." She was shocked to see the policeman helping me! He advised that the next morning there was a place to get the battery charged and the car probably would run. We did just that. The next morning I got the battery charged and we were once again on our way. We arrived back in Houston with no farther problems. Labor day weekend in 1995 we began another adventure with the ford. Against everyone's advice, I decide to drive the ford back to Savannah. Pat would of course follow in her car. We stopped about every 100 miles to check the oil and usually it was close to a quart low. It really wasn't burning oil, but slinging it out. I knew that the old ford needed a ring job. Before we left my mechanic, Mike, had declared that everything was ok. He had checked the rear end and repacked the wheel bearings. The generator was fixed and everything was working well. The old ford is fun to drive, especially when something gets mad because and old car passes them and they try to re-pass you. This happened in Mobile, going through the tunnel. Actually, you do not want to be behind the ford when I goose it. One guy was mad because I passed him and got on my bumper. I goosed the ford, leaving him eat dust. The black spots all over his windshield were not bugs. At approximately 11:00 a.m. on labor day, I began to hear a really strange noise in the rear. SEE THE REST OF THE STORY |
| RETURNING FROM SAVANNA , JUNE 16, 1998 |
