“That Car Never Should Have Been Built”
From James Donahue’s Journal
There were two used-car dealerships operating on vacant lots between my office and the Sanilac County courthouse. I suppose because I walked past them several times a day I was inspired at times to buy a few vehicles from those lots. One of the worst mistakes I ever made was buying a used Plymouth Horizon that I thought would make a good economical vehicle to zip around the county in. This was after the Times Herald stopped furnishing cars for the bureau reporters to drive.
The salesman, whose name I cannot recall but a man I considered a good friend at the time, tried to discourage me from buying the car. He liked General Motors products and sneered at this little Plymouth. He called it a “Mopar,” a promotional name Chrysler was using for its products at the time. After buying the car I could not fault the dealer for trying to talk me out of it. The car was a real lemon. In fact its color was yellow.
The windows would not crank up or down properly. Sometimes I could get them down but then they would not roll back up. The distributer was located near the underbelly of the car and completely exposed to the elements. There was no splash pan under the car. Every time I hit a mud puddle on the road, the cold water hit the heated plastic distributer cap and cracked it. When the distributor got wet the car stopped running and left me stranded. I had to have a special splash guard installed to prevent that from happening.
It seemed that I could not drive the car anywhere without something serious going wrong with it. One cold winter night I was driving down a lonely country road, on my way to pick up Susan at the Haupt farm, and the car stalled. This time I did not believe it was the distributor. I was in a fix. I was not dressed for the weather and the nearest house was about a half mile away. I braved the elements, walked to that house where I saw lights on. I knocked on the door but the people there refused to answer. I supposed that they were fearful of a stranger knocking on their door in the night. I walked back to the car, chilled to the bone and anxious to get out of the weather. By now the car was getting cold. I realized by now that I was in danger of freezing to death. I was about another mile and one half to Haupts. I discovered that by cranking the starter while the car was in gear I could move it slowly down the road, so I used the starter to go as far as I could. The starter gave up when I was within sight of the Haupt home. I walked the rest of the way and from there called Doris. She come to pick us up.
I had the car towed into town to my mechanic. He found some kind of problem in the gas line that stalled the engine. That was easy to fix. But the starter was another problem. I had burned out the one in the car, and a replacement had to be ordered from Japan. Apparently several parts and possibly the engine were made in Japan. I waited about a month or longer for the starter to arrive.
A few days after getting the car operating and back home again, I tried to start it for my morning trip to the office. It was early in the morning and the sun had not yet risen. I heard a funny noise and then saw a strange flickering orange light in the snow beside the car. The engine was on fire. I was so disappointed in that car I remember sitting there for a while contemplating just letting it burn. But I returned to my senses, raised the hood, and used snow to snuff out the flames. I had the car towed once more, this time to a Plymouth dealership to have the damage assessed. It cost me several hundred dollars to have the wiring and all of the other damaged parts replaced.
A day after I got the car home again, I needed to make a trip to Detroit Metro Airport to pick up our daughter, Ayn, who was coming home on leave from the Army after finishing boot camp. I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to take the Horizon. I guess I thought that now that just about every working part of the engine and drive train had been replaced, surely nothing more could go wrong with that car. I think I wanted to test my theory.
The trip to and from Detroit went relatively well, at least at first. I got there and picked up Ayn. It was a happy reunion. We stopped for lunch and then started for home. On the way I began hearing an odd sound and realized that a front wheel bearing was breaking up. I pressed on, keeping my fingers crossed that the car would get us home. We made it but by the time we arrived the bearing was making a real racket. I parked the car in the back yard and vowed that I was never going to drive it again. I planned to eventually get the bearing fixed then trade the car in the next time I wanted to buy a car. We already had at least three other vehicles in the yard so I could live without the Horizon.
The next spring Doris's brother Wayne was at the house for a visit. He noticed the Horizon parked in the back yard and asked about it. I told him about all the troubles I had with the car and that I was never going to drive it again. He asked what I would take for the car and I gave him a very low price. I think it was something like $400. He looked shocked and said he was sure the book value was much higher. I told Wayne that was all the value I thought the car had, but that I did not want to sell the car to him. I told him he was a member of the family and a good friend. I said that if anything ever came between us it would be that car. Wayne laughed and said that was nonsense. He said he was a good mechanic and didn’t think there was a car on the road he could not fix. He bought the Horizon.
After that, every time we had occasion to visit Wayne, the Horizon was up on jacks or on blocks in the driveway and it was obvious that it was being worked on. The summer passed and that December, when the family was gathered for a Christmas party and Wayne had a few drinks in him, I asked him about the Horizon. He looked me in the eye and said: “That car should never have been built.” He admitted that he could never keep it on the road more than a day before something else happened to it. He spent the whole year constantly fixing it.
As I recall, Wayne sold the car to some other poor guy in the Caro area. He said after that he never saw it again. I always thought the car had a curse on it.
From James Donahue’s Journal
There were two used-car dealerships operating on vacant lots between my office and the Sanilac County courthouse. I suppose because I walked past them several times a day I was inspired at times to buy a few vehicles from those lots. One of the worst mistakes I ever made was buying a used Plymouth Horizon that I thought would make a good economical vehicle to zip around the county in. This was after the Times Herald stopped furnishing cars for the bureau reporters to drive.
The salesman, whose name I cannot recall but a man I considered a good friend at the time, tried to discourage me from buying the car. He liked General Motors products and sneered at this little Plymouth. He called it a “Mopar,” a promotional name Chrysler was using for its products at the time. After buying the car I could not fault the dealer for trying to talk me out of it. The car was a real lemon. In fact its color was yellow.
The windows would not crank up or down properly. Sometimes I could get them down but then they would not roll back up. The distributer was located near the underbelly of the car and completely exposed to the elements. There was no splash pan under the car. Every time I hit a mud puddle on the road, the cold water hit the heated plastic distributer cap and cracked it. When the distributor got wet the car stopped running and left me stranded. I had to have a special splash guard installed to prevent that from happening.
It seemed that I could not drive the car anywhere without something serious going wrong with it. One cold winter night I was driving down a lonely country road, on my way to pick up Susan at the Haupt farm, and the car stalled. This time I did not believe it was the distributor. I was in a fix. I was not dressed for the weather and the nearest house was about a half mile away. I braved the elements, walked to that house where I saw lights on. I knocked on the door but the people there refused to answer. I supposed that they were fearful of a stranger knocking on their door in the night. I walked back to the car, chilled to the bone and anxious to get out of the weather. By now the car was getting cold. I realized by now that I was in danger of freezing to death. I was about another mile and one half to Haupts. I discovered that by cranking the starter while the car was in gear I could move it slowly down the road, so I used the starter to go as far as I could. The starter gave up when I was within sight of the Haupt home. I walked the rest of the way and from there called Doris. She come to pick us up.
I had the car towed into town to my mechanic. He found some kind of problem in the gas line that stalled the engine. That was easy to fix. But the starter was another problem. I had burned out the one in the car, and a replacement had to be ordered from Japan. Apparently several parts and possibly the engine were made in Japan. I waited about a month or longer for the starter to arrive.
A few days after getting the car operating and back home again, I tried to start it for my morning trip to the office. It was early in the morning and the sun had not yet risen. I heard a funny noise and then saw a strange flickering orange light in the snow beside the car. The engine was on fire. I was so disappointed in that car I remember sitting there for a while contemplating just letting it burn. But I returned to my senses, raised the hood, and used snow to snuff out the flames. I had the car towed once more, this time to a Plymouth dealership to have the damage assessed. It cost me several hundred dollars to have the wiring and all of the other damaged parts replaced.
A day after I got the car home again, I needed to make a trip to Detroit Metro Airport to pick up our daughter, Ayn, who was coming home on leave from the Army after finishing boot camp. I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to take the Horizon. I guess I thought that now that just about every working part of the engine and drive train had been replaced, surely nothing more could go wrong with that car. I think I wanted to test my theory.
The trip to and from Detroit went relatively well, at least at first. I got there and picked up Ayn. It was a happy reunion. We stopped for lunch and then started for home. On the way I began hearing an odd sound and realized that a front wheel bearing was breaking up. I pressed on, keeping my fingers crossed that the car would get us home. We made it but by the time we arrived the bearing was making a real racket. I parked the car in the back yard and vowed that I was never going to drive it again. I planned to eventually get the bearing fixed then trade the car in the next time I wanted to buy a car. We already had at least three other vehicles in the yard so I could live without the Horizon.
The next spring Doris's brother Wayne was at the house for a visit. He noticed the Horizon parked in the back yard and asked about it. I told him about all the troubles I had with the car and that I was never going to drive it again. He asked what I would take for the car and I gave him a very low price. I think it was something like $400. He looked shocked and said he was sure the book value was much higher. I told Wayne that was all the value I thought the car had, but that I did not want to sell the car to him. I told him he was a member of the family and a good friend. I said that if anything ever came between us it would be that car. Wayne laughed and said that was nonsense. He said he was a good mechanic and didn’t think there was a car on the road he could not fix. He bought the Horizon.
After that, every time we had occasion to visit Wayne, the Horizon was up on jacks or on blocks in the driveway and it was obvious that it was being worked on. The summer passed and that December, when the family was gathered for a Christmas party and Wayne had a few drinks in him, I asked him about the Horizon. He looked me in the eye and said: “That car should never have been built.” He admitted that he could never keep it on the road more than a day before something else happened to it. He spent the whole year constantly fixing it.
As I recall, Wayne sold the car to some other poor guy in the Caro area. He said after that he never saw it again. I always thought the car had a curse on it.