Dumb Blonde Buys a Used Car for her Brother-in-law

Dumb Blonde Buys a Used Car for her Brother-in-law

In 1948 my husband reenlisted in the U.S. Navy, and was stationed aboard the newly commissioned USS Midway based in Norfolk, VA.  I had moved to Norfolk with our two children to make a home for him whenever the ship was in port, and found a beach cottage on East Ocean View Ave. across the road from huge sand dunes by the Atlantic Ocean.

My husband’s oldest brother, Walt, was a Lt. Commander in the Navy He and his family had recently been sent to the U.S. naval facility in Morocco. He needed a car, and wrote a letter to my husband asking him to buy one and get it loaded aboard a certain Navy ship by a certain date. He included a personal check for $1,000 made out to my husband, who happened to be in port at the time. My husband deposited the check in his personal checking account. My name was not on the account.

In the short time he had in port, my husband could not find a suitable car. This was only a short time after the end of WWII, and car manufacturers had only begun to produce new models. Before my husband could look farther, the Midway was moved out ‘into the stream’, meaning it was anchored offshore, and there was almost no liberty for the enlisted men. Time passed and the departure date for the transport ship was approaching fast. My husband finally realized he wouldn’t be able to buy the car in time, so that I would have to do it. He sent word to me to get it done.

I gathered up the kids, and went car hunting. I can’t remember the details, but I remember that I looked for two days with no success. It was a seller’s market. There weren’t any classy used cars, such as Walt would expect, for $1,000. He really wanted a Packard, a car high in quality and prestige in those days. In fact there were few cars of any kind at that price.

I finally settled for a 1941 four-door Ford sedan. No dents, good interior, the foot pedal didn’t look too worn; the mileage was low, (probably because of gas rationing during the war). The catch was that it had been a taxi. That’s probably why it was priced at $850.  I was almost out of time to buy the car and ship it on schedule. I had to hurry. I told the salesman to hold the car, I would be right back with the money.

When I tried to withdraw Walt’s $1,000 at the bank, I found out I would not be allowed to do that, because my name was not on the account. My husband had to give me written authorization. Since he was aboard the Midway half-a-mile or more offshore, I couldn’t just call him by phone. I called the harbormaster. He suggested I try a short wave message, and the best chance of success would be at Little Creek Small Boats facility.

I left my children with another navy wife, and set out. At Little Creek, I found an office where I was told it might be possible to get a message to my husband, but for some reason, I had to go out to a certain small boat anchored farthest out in the boat basin. Nice girls didn’t wear pants in those days, and I was wearing a particularly bad choice of skirts for a windy day. There seemed to be quite a few sailors around watching. As I clambered on small gangways from boat to boat,.my skirt blew up in the wind, and I rivaled Marilyn Monroe in trying to keep it down.  When I finally reached the designated boat, I was told it was all a mistake; they didn’t have facilities out there for making the call. So back I went amid whistles and suggestive remarks. I used to be offended by men’s whistles, but when I reached that certain age, I found I missed them.

So, there I stood on the wooden wharf, wondering what my next move would be. About then I noticed a landing craft approaching the dock aimed for a spot right in front of me. I could see there was a sailor driving the boat, and two other men seated at the prow. When they got close enough, I couldn’t believe my eyes – one of those two men was my husband! Of all the possible 5,000 men aboard the Midway, my husband was going to land right in front of me! How about that for a coincidence, James Redfield! Have I got an angel on my shoulder, or what? My husband was a mechanic, an aviation mechanic in the Navy, and he was killing time by repairing a Jeep. He had come in to get parts for it.

When he got over the shock of finding me standing there, I told him that I needed a written and signed authorization to get the $1,000 from the bank, and there was no time to lose. I fished around in my purse for a piece of paper and a pencil, and he kneeled down and wrote, “Please give my wife $1,000 from my account,” and he signed his name. I think he dated it, but I’m not sure. You could see the grain of the wood in the handwriting. I got a hug and a kiss, and was off to the bank where there was no further difficulty. They honored that scrap of paper as if it printed as a regular check, and they gave me the money.

Because the car cost only $850, there was money left over, so I bought extra accessories, such as a starter, a generator, two extra tires etc. I doubted these things would be available in Morocco. I was told the car would be lashed down on the main deck of the ship where it was subject to rough weather, so I should grease it well.  I slathered it all over with the type of grease you use to pack bearings.

Years later, Walt made fun of me for my choice in a car. He couldn’t believe there hadn’t been a Packard out there for him. As it turned out, he didn’t need the accessories, but he sold them at a good price. He didn’t mention the grease job I gave the car. His best story was about his transfer to London. He and his wife, and their two children, drove through Italy to Paris, France, where they stayed at the Ritz Hotel. They laughed at their lowbrow arrival in the humble Ford under the portico of the Ritz.  A man in uniform greeted them. He was ready to unload and park the car. They imagined was he looking down his nose at them.   

 In London my brother-in-law traded the much maligned Ford for something more high-brow and classy. The Ford became  just a joke from the past.