’53 Chev

       The Green Bomb.

     It probably should be the Green Bomb II since there was another ’53 Chev that preceded this one.  The old one had the wheels run off of it.  It had maybe 150K miles on it, which is remarkable for cars of that era.  Those old “6-bangers” often had to have a complete engine overhaul after 60 or 70K miles.  I can’t remember that first ’53 being overhauled.

     The folks liked that first ’53, which was the first automatic transmission ever allowed to join the farm fleet, so well that they snapped up the Green Bomb when it came up for sale from a neighbor whose parents had died.  It was similar to the first ’53 and they knew its history.  Those neighbors bought it new in 1953.

     The Green Bomb was replaced by a much newer Buick.  The Green Bomb may have sat outside for a while, but not a long while.  As soon as the red barn was completed, it was moved to its retirement spot in the very deepest part of the barn, the north end where there was supposed to be walk--in door leading to the “finishing corral” for future beeves.  That door never got done. 

      Eventually, a stove blocked the way to the exit for the Green Bomb.  Then various tractors and trucks, some being overhauled, were in its way to the door.

   Note the stove pipe descending on the Green Bomb’s hood like a tornado funnel.  That’s where the stove stood.

     There was never any reason to get the Green Bomb out of its place.  It probably sat there close to forty years.  The tires went flat, the roof provided a storage place for things that needed to be kept mouse-free. 

      While the mice couldn’t get to the roof of the old car, the interior of the car was not so lucky.

    The ’53 is the last antique car left on the farm.  Plans are to get it sold, too.  Then will come the antique tractors and machinery as my farm career approaches its end.  It’s a sad, sweet time as digging out the old stuff brings back a lot of memories.

     The first step in getting the Green Bomb out of the barn was clearing a way.  The stove was the big obstacle.  With the help of the 4010 and it’s frontend loader, and Lelsie, Patti’s companion when we are at the farm, the stove came out of the barn and went down into the basement—another story, maybe, except I forgot to take any pictures of that memorable event.

    Next, the tires had to be aired up.  One refused to accept any air.  One aired up and went back down in about 15 minutes.  A third lasted for a few hours, and one held air for nearly a week.

    I was able to get the spare out of the trunk and replace the totally no-good tire.  The spare held air for a couple of days.  I was able to get both wheels off the front, using the spare on one side and blocks under the other side.

    Brother Dave came down to help.  He rolled around under the back end of the car for nearly an hour getting the rear end jacked up, blocked and both rear wheels off. 

     Dave had brought four “cheapy” tires (in fact, they were free, but it cost $96 to get the old tires removed and the new ones mounted) with him.  A trip to town had the new tires mounted in less than an hour.   That was quite enough work for two old guys for one day.

     It got cold overnight.  Halloween dawned cloudy and cool.  Attempts to start the 4010 in the cold didn’t go too well.  It took three attempts with battery chargers hooked up between attempts.  Once it started, the clutch and transmission didn’t want to go to work in the cold, but eventually, everything worked. 

     Moving the 4010 left only one obstacle between the Green Bomb and its first glimpse of sunlight in 40+ years.  We pulled another tractor out of the barn and the way was clear.  Hooking a chain to the Green Bomb called for another roll in the dirt beneath the car, but it got done.

      One last problem:  the car didn’t want to shift out of Park.  WD-40 here and there and constant working the shifter succeeded. 

     Pulling the car was no problem for the 4010, and the Green Bomb seemed actually anxious to get out, rolling faster than the 4010, catching up to the tractor and managing to unhook the chain.

     Inertia was overcome and the car soon sat in front of the shop waiting for a good cleaning.  It didn’t get a good cleaning, but it got most of the mouse poop and debris removed from interior and trunk.

  We donned respirators whenever we got near the interior or the trunk of the car.  Hantavirus, you know. 

      There were a few interesting mouse-chewed documents, like this booklet listing license plate numbers, what car and to whom the license was issued.  Invasion of privacy?

     

    We left the car sitting in front of the shop.  It was destined to sit under two feet of snow on this second week of November, 2024.  I’m not there to take a picture of that.                                                   

                      

  Long live the Green Bomb!