Reflections from History and Faith: Memories of THE Ride

By Jeff Olson

I would venture to say that most men, and perhaps some women, have one particular vehicle which they would call a personal favorite. Maybe it’s one that he or she owned, or maybe it’s one they wished they had owned but never did. And then there are those who owned one once and sold it, wishing now that the sale had never taken place. Those memories of our favorite ride are enduring.

My story of THE Ride was the latter of the three scenarios above, though I wasn’t the one who owned the original. My parents bought it brand-spanking new in the spring of 1957 — a bright red Oldsmobile Super 88 two-door post with the standard 371 cubic inch Rocket V-8 engine and Rochester 4-barrel carburetor. Yes… it would haul it!

Almost from the day my father traded it in 1962, I told myself that I would have my own such car one day. However, when we get older our necessities and therefore priorities change and the bucks once intended for our favorite wheels need to be spent for rent or the mortgage, food, utilities, baby formula and diapers, and a different kind of ride — a set of wheels which fit a minivan much better than a sporty or antique car.

But you know what? Not only did I buy a 1957 Oldsmobile, but I bought two. At different times, that is. The first one was in March of 1988, which I found in Nebraska, and the second one was in December 2010, which my son found for me in Indiana.

The first one required more resources and work than a young family man could muster, so I had to sell it some six years later. The second one I’ve managed to keep after our children were raised and I had a little money for discretionary spending. That little money is still not enough to restore her, but I do enjoy an occasional drive close by and the friendship she still offers me, even parked in the garage. Tinkering with my Ride is enjoyable, and there is always something to be fixed or adjusted. Currently, it is the carburetor. Perhaps one day you folks will see her in a car show. I could go on and on about my Ride, but this brings me to the theme of my story today, which I’ve set the stage for.

Our story begins over 60 years ago, in the early 1960s. At the time, Lee Iacocca was vice president and general manager of Ford Motor Company. At the time, Ford had a compact car called the Falcon. I can still remember the Ford Falcon, as a few of my friends had one. Admittedly, these were nifty little cars and a quite a successful line for Ford. However, let’s face it — they weren’t exactly the kind of cars which would turn a girl’s head… nor would they impress the guys with all those little ponies under the hood. Mr. Iacocca new this all too well, so he envisioned a sporty youth-market car based on the compact Falcon. He pitched the idea to the leadership at Ford, and the decision was made to go forward.

Executive stylist John Najjar, who was a fan of the World War II P-51 fighter plane, is credited by Ford with suggesting the name. He, along with Philip T. Clark, co-designed the first prototype of the Mustang known as the “Ford Mustang 1” in 1961. The Mustang I made its formal debut at the United States Grand Prix in Watkins Glen, New York, on October 7, 1962.

Two concept Mustang models were developed, in 1962 and in 1963. The first production Mustang was launched

59 years ago this week on March 9, 1964, five months before the start of the 1965 production year at the Dearborn, Michigan, plant. These early models were later referred to as “1964 1/2” models, although they were advertised as 1965 and were developed in record time and on a shoe-string bud- get. Ford introduced its 1965 Mustang at the World’s Fair on April 17, 1964. In August 1964, the true 1965 model began production at its normal timing with minor design updates from the “1964 1/2” model.

The Ford Mustang was an instant success. Ford planned for 100,000 Mustangs to be sold in the first year of sales, but dealers sold 22,000 on the first day and 120,000 by August 1964. A variety of options enabled buyers to configure their Mustang as anything from an economical runabout to a weekend race car.

Total sales for the 1965 model (including “1964½” cars) was 681,000 — nearly seven times Ford’s projections. The Mustang was the first of a whole new genre of automobiles, which would come to be known as Pony Cars.

The Mustang is currently the longest-produced Ford car nameplate. Currently in its sixth generation, it is the fifth-bestselling Ford car nameplate. Between1964 and 2022, there have been a total of 9,883,577 Ford Mustangs sold in the United States.

My story is not over, until I tell you about one of these Mustangs. In the fall of 1971, when I was in high school, I became a good friend of David Johnson. David was a year older than I and a fellow trumpet player in the high school band. He was the one who initially got me involved in church music which eventually led me to becoming a Christian and subsequently join a local church. While the latter was the most important fruit of our friendship, it was not the only one. David had a set of wheels which made our friendship most enjoyable. We covered no telling how many miles in his (his father’s) yellow 1966 Mustang hardtop coup. While this little jewel was more of the “runabout” version, David tended to drive it like it was the racing version. He pulled out all the horses (or ponies) those six cylinders could muster and all the while “…bye-bye Miss American Pie, Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry” (recently released) blaring out through the radio.

Though we didn’t have a Chevy and we didn’t drive it to the levee, we did take that Ford to lots of other places. My memory of that Ride will stay with me for as long as I have a memory. I haven’t seen or talked to David in some 45 years, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he still had that car.

My Mustang memory is but one of millions that could be told. I guess it would be more personal if that had been my car, but David’s parents and mine knew better than to turn either one of us loose in such a car without some controls. Even so, after more than 50 years, I still recall it as the best of times for two boys who grew up in an era of great cars and great music.

By Richie Lawry

It was almost three years ago that I received the phone call. The salesman from my glass supply company in Little Rock was on the other end. “I don’t know quite how to tell you this, so I am going to come right out and say it,” he said. “Corporate headquarters has decided we will no longer deliver to your area.” I stood in silence, not knowing what to say. It was like a vehicle coming out of nowhere and running over me. After I hung up the phone, thoughts were swirling in my head. What was I going to do?

How could I stay in business if I didn’t have a supplier to deliver to my area? I had customers scheduled for glass replacement. How would I get the glass I needed? The only solution I could see was driving to Little Rock to pick up my glass. After calling my salesman back and discussing the situation with him, I developed a plan. Someone was supposed to open my supplier’s warehouse at 6 a.m. every workday. Suppose I left Mena at 3 a.m. I could be at the warehouse when they opened at 6. After loading my truck, I would drive back to Mena and be able to open by 10 a.m.

Over the next several months, I got used to the routine. Two or three times a week, I would get up at 2:30 a.m. to leave the house by 3 and drive to Little Rock to pick up my auto glass order. It seemed like I was always tired. I wondered if anything would ever change or if I would make this drive for years.

Over the months I drove to Little Rock, I got to know the early morning shift at the warehouse. They did their best to have my order pulled and ready for me when I arrived. One day they had exciting news for me. They told me that the corporate route manager had decided to reopen one of the routes that had been closed earlier. They wouldn’t be coming to Polk County, but they would be delivering to De Queen. “I wonder if there is some way that I can take advantage of the De Queen route,” I thought.

I called my salesman to see if there was some way to get my glass delivered