Anders Hjelm from Lindesberg wrote colorfully about his driver’s license. He let us sense a continuation. Here it is! Part two: The first car. by Anders Hjelm
After that license was completed and was safely in one of the compartments in the wallet I was, for a few exceptions, sober for a year. I was the obvious driver for the area’s young people who wanted to go out and party.
There were thousands of laps around town, and many trips to amusement parks and party places with me behind the wheel instead of any back seat.
Anyone who has been designated drinking driver know what a hassle it can be but I was in a bubble and did not listen to drunk’s talking, but just cruised, quite often without stopping, despite loud protests from pee needing passengers. Meanwhile, I saved every single coin I could dispense with the aim of acquiring my own car.
The occasion appeared eleven months after the coffee and cigarettes in the sports hall. (Part 1) A friend would sell his car and wondered if it was something for me. I was excited, of course. I had been riding in these nice wheels a few years earlier when picked up around the neighboring town of Arboga by the owner Krister Sjöström. The car was then painted white, was no floor mat and had straight pipes.
Then it was painted black and ended up at Esa Kopakkala in Lindesberg and it picked up well then, now with floor mat and silencers. Esa was ready to trade up and I took my savings, borrowed even more, bargained a bit on the price and got my first car.
The first car … taste the words and try to remember your own first car.
I still remember sounds, smells, passengers, wherever I went, and what was heard in the cassette stereo. I get flashbacks when I hear certain songs that are deeply connected with my first car. In my case it was the first car a four-door Dodge Coronet 500 of the 1966 model.
It was purchased in March 7, 1988 for the reasonable price of 2200 dollars. It had been sold new in Sweden, had a dozen previous owners and a V8 with 318 cubic inches and a 727 Torqueflite automatic. 
The paint was black as the interior, which had once been golden, now went in burgundy with door panels in boat vinyl and seats with teddy. I continued the red theme by shopping a few rolls red stripes that I taped on press creases on the hood and along the body lines on the sides.
I lived almost in that the Dodge. Went in it from the early afternoon to late evening, despite the ungodly morning at the former job as a baker. I put nearly 14.000 miles during the six months I owned it and almost every penny I earned went to gasoline.
Två months after I bought it the annual Spring Event directed by SHRA Lindesberg came up . It was located in Gustavsviks airfields in Örebro and was one of the few car shows held at fair distance from my home in Lindesberg.
Otherwise, there were almost only Power Meet and Wheels Nationals available to a newly appointed US car owner.
Proud as a peacock with the car washed and where the old shitty metal rims were hotted up in black paint with chrome rim rings and wheel nuts. Happy as a home coming queen I rolled towards Örebro.
Once at the airport, when I I stood in line at the inlet of all Fords, Buicks, Cadillacs and Chevys, cheering me on some of the officials that I recognized from before, when I had previously worked for the organizing club at some of their dragracing events I heard a voice.
“Hey, you should probably take and turn around and park in visitor parking over there,” said a blonde girl who stood and took charge, while a dark girl who distributed the meeting decals pointed with a cigarette at the completely wrong direction than where I wanted.
– “Well .. why, it is entirely jammed at the airfield” I wondered
– “Nah, but you’ve got a greaser car and such can not enter here,” said the blonde.
– “No? … but the cars in front and behind me all the cars in the line are also greaser cars ” I tried.
– “Thy are not. They are classics and by the way, your car is in poor condition,” said the dark. “It’s just a U- turn for you now buddy”
So I began, both disappointed and angry, fuss me out of the line and when I turned the car I saw between two hangars a way for me to the car show on the field. I hang a right of course in there and with a glance in the rearview mirror, I saw that the blonde got wind of my prank when she with hand waved and shouted merited attention while I hastily roared in on the grass surface.
– It´s a greaser car !
(There is no good translation for the Swedish word raggarbil but it means a car that cruises around town at night picking up girls, having fun, playing loud music maybe and taking a drink in the back seat. ) (You know like in the American Graffiti) Big cars, big engines, young drivers and party all night long in the weekends.) Other than that the people were good hard working men and women all week. )
After I parked neatly next to the others out on the airfield, I had barely gotten out of the car when the chairman of the SHRA Lindesberg, came like a Moose on long legs across the field, stood in front of me and shouted indignantly in broken Swedish-English why in heavens name me my idiot pulled into this field.
– “What,” I said irritably, “You did not want to let me in so suit your self”
– “Well you’ve got a hot rod, a greaser car”, he said
– “Look around you,” I answered tired and threw out my arm against the cars around us “it’s picking up greaser hot rod cars everywhere here, I myself have ridden in the back seat of a couple of them.
– People in Sweden have cruised around picking up with US cars for almost thirty years and if you must fend off anyone who has not show painting or going bone stock classic, but drives for fun sometimes in non-renovated four-door-cars, so you’ll find it hard to get members of the club or any visitors to your car meet next year ” i said as young as I was.
Then I turned on my heel and began to walk around and check out the other cars.
Finally a sealing in the transmission of the Coronet gave up, with the result that a gallon of oil flowed out as soon as we parked and I was constantly pouring from a yellow bowl that was placed under the car
Stupid as I was and additionally broke I didn’t correct the problem but made it easy for me and the car was sold off and the next car, a Dodge Dart was purchased.
The price quadrupled in for years
A few years later, in the late 1990s, I met the Coronet again. It had the tranny replaced, chromed wheels and looked better than ever. Thought of buying it back but it was almost four times more than I once paid, so I abstained.
Today shut down in a barn somewhere.
-I was perhaps lucky because something must have happened to my first car? It’s been off the road for the last thirteen years.
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