There was an old guy that lived in a duplex down the street when I was in high school who owned the mirror image of this car. Roughly the same condition. Hard to say which one had been ridden the hardest through life, the old man or his Catalina.
I walked past the thing my way to and from school every day, thinking the car was a hoot and the old guy was a coot. One afternoon he was forcing the top down as I headed home from class. “What do you think of my old Poncho?” he yelled out as I walked by.
Possessing all the wit and wisdom of the average seventeen-year-old, I said, “It needs a paint job,” and kept on walking. It didn’t really dawn on me till I got home that the ancient ragtop may have been the guy’s pride and joy and I may have hurt his feelings.
The next day, about the same time, I got to where the old Catalina was parked in the street just as the old man did. In one hand he held a 3” horsehair brush and in the other a gallon of Sears Weatherbeater exterior house paint mixed to a Deep Pacific Blue. He looked at me, but didn’t say a word.
Out of curiosity I stopped, thinking that surely he wasn’t going to do what it looked like he might. I was wrong.
I sat down on the curb and watched him pry open the paint can with a church key and dip the brush in. He started at the rear rocker, just ahead of the back bumper and with broad even strokes began painting the Pontiac with house paint. I wasn’t sure just what to say. Occasionally I’d tell him he’d missed a spot. Then he’d tell me how to treat women. He had some very specific advice that in hindsight was actually spot on.
“Don’t be afraid to tell people to F-off when need be,” he said. The fact that the old codger dropped the F-Bomb caught me completely by surprise. By the time he got to the rear wheel well he said, “Keep fit. The ladies dig it and you’ll feel better about yourself.”
I wasn’t sure if I was being educated or entertained, but it was enough to keep me coming back and taking a seat on the curb for the next week or so while the old guy hand painted his convertible with exterior house paint. At the end of the week, as he was finishing up the hood he said, “Young men provide the genius and the muscle that makes society thrive,” and with that, took a step back and admired his work. “What do you think? he asked.
“I think it’s going to need a second coat,” I told him. It gave us another week.
“Never walk away from a fight,” he told me, “even if you know you’re going to lose. Invest in yourself. Don’t pick on the weak, but stand up to defend them. Acquire empathy. Realize that love is a numbers game,” are a few of the topics he made sure we discussed. In the end, the Pontiac looked exactly like what it was: a beat up old car someone had hand brushed with Sears Weatherbeater.
A short time later the car disappeared and I never saw the old gentleman again. It made me appreciate the people that come into my life for a reason, no matter how short a time they may stick around.
And it made me realize there isn’t an old car out there that can’t be enjoyed, regardless of condition, age, or paint.
3 responses to “WEATHERBEATER CATALINA”
Back in the late 1970s or early ’80s, Mark and Gene, a couple of my old-car friends worked as mechanics at the local K-Mart Auto Service (before Penske took over). I had my ’69 Citroen D-21 wagon in for new Michelin XaS tires when an early 1960s Pontiac Catalina sedan rolled in for an oil and filter change. The driver, a young-ish lady was very proud of keeping her late step-father’s pride and joy up and running. Once she left the service writer’s desk and disappeared into the store, another much younger employee (I hesitate to consider him a technician) started hootin’ and hollerin’, calling attention to the Poncho’s paint job. It was beige interior latex, obviously applied with a very small roller. It did have a somewhat interesting light texture, maybe similar to a kitchen wall.
Mark, a Corvair guy, Gene, a street-rodder, and I were somewhat amused at the attempt at preservation, but ganged up on the young “tech”, had him Back-Off on his ridicule, and “helped” him understand that even a work-in-progress, or so-so-job is still somebody’s baby …. and that even his clapped-out p-o-s Falcon might someday be interesting. Of course we probably didn’t believe it, but why mock somebody else’s effort.
Later, the owner came out, picked up the Catalina, and asked if we had noticed the unique paint job. She explained that it was one of the last things her late step-dad had done – “Just for Fun”, and gave her a sweet, pleasant memory of what a fun loving guy – and how lucky she was to have had him in her life.
We need more old men like this and a whole lot less “internet “influencers.”
Now get off my lawn.
Maybe he hooked up with Lucinda’s mom, drove to Veracruz, lived happily ever after 🙂