It seems appropriate to begin this blog by telling a story that involves a couple of scars (knee and nose), one of Randy's favorite cars (the 1965 GTO), and a soundtrack of 1960s rock.
Randy grew up in the 1950s and '60s in eastern Nebraska, in a small town surrounded by rolling hills and cornfields. Early one summer evening in the late 1960s when he was about 17, he was driving to another town pick up his date to take her to a county fair. He didn't want to get to her house too early because he didn't particularly want to hang out with her dad or anything, so he decided to go poking around some of the back country gravel roads on his way to her town.
The car Randy was driving at the time was a 1965 GTO, the one on the left in this photo:
Randy grew up in the 1950s and '60s in eastern Nebraska, in a small town surrounded by rolling hills and cornfields. Early one summer evening in the late 1960s when he was about 17, he was driving to another town pick up his date to take her to a county fair. He didn't want to get to her house too early because he didn't particularly want to hang out with her dad or anything, so he decided to go poking around some of the back country gravel roads on his way to her town.
The car Randy was driving at the time was a 1965 GTO, the one on the left in this photo:
(The car on the right is the 1956 Plymouth and the one barely visible in the back was the family's Ford station wagon. Stay tuned for stories about those cars in later blogs.)
It is difficult to tell from the old photo above, but that 1965 GTO—sometimes called "The Goat"—was a work of beauty. The seats and headliner were Parchment White and the carpet was Black. It was painted a pale yellow color that General Motors named Mayflower Maize. . . . Wait, here you go. . . . On UltimateGTO.com I found a photo of what the GTO probably looked like on that day that Randy was driving to pick up his date, complete with the green rolling hills and gravel road and everything:
Isn't she beautiful? The original owner of the Mayflower Maize GTO was Randy's older brother B., who special-ordered it, drove it for 3 years, and then gave it to their father as repayment for college tuition. (By that time brother B. was driving a brand new Black 1968 GTO, so no hard feelings at giving up the '65 Goat for his little brother to drive on dates.)
So there Randy was, putting along at 10 to 15 miles per hour on back country gravel roads in eastern Nebraska, wasting time before picking up his date. The sun was starting to go down and storm clouds were gathering in the east. He was having a fine time listening to tunes from the Woodstock festival soundtrack. This being the late 1960s, the music was played through an 8-track tape deck that Randy had mounted under the dashboard of the GTO. (He overbuilt, as usual, using quarter-inch steel bolts instead of tiny sheet-metal screws.)
Randy recalls that the light was waning so he turned on the headlights. He realized it was probably time to start working his way to his date's house. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, but knew what general direction he needed to head. He recalls thinking, "I'll turn left the first chance I get." By then the storm clouds that had been gathering began to dump water. A light drizzle quickly turned into a pouring rainstorm. Randy reached over to turn on the windshield wipers, and accidentally hit the knob for the headlights with his knuckle which turned them off. There was still a bit of daylight left, so he got the wipers on and adjusted before he turned the headlights back on.
Here's how Randy tells the story from that point:
"I turned the lights back on, and low and behold, there was—dead ahead in front of me—an unmarked T-intersection on this old country road. The road had apparently just under gone some sort of construction because there was no gravel; there was just mud. And I realized that even going 15 or 20 miles per hour was pretty fast because I was almost on top of this T-intersection. So I hit the brakes and nothing happened. I just slid on the mud 3 or 4 car lengths towards the edge of a tall ditch, kinda like a cliff. The GTO came to a point where it slowed down and almost didn't go over the cliff, but then it did. The cliff was about 20-25 feet into the bottom end of a cornfield. Essentially the car fell off of this cliff just barely as if someone had flicked it with their finger. It wasn't like a flying, hurtling Duke's of Hazzard kind of leap off the cliff at all."
Despite the lack of drama in the launch, there was still a major impact when the GTO hit bottom and slid out into the cornfield. Randy's face banged the top part of the steering wheel, and he broke his nose and started bleeding all over the place. His knee lurched forward and hit the 8-track tape deck, breaking off the quarter-inch steel bolts that he had used to attach the tape player to the dashboard. Randy's kneecap broke and the tape player ended up over on the floor of the passenger side of the car.
The engine died and the headlights lights stayed on. Randy was stunned and a bit disoriented, but he clearly remembers what he heard. Over there on the floor the tape player—still wired up—kept on playing the "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die Rag" that Country Joe and the Fish played at Woodstock:
Here's how Randy tells the story from that point:
"I turned the lights back on, and low and behold, there was—dead ahead in front of me—an unmarked T-intersection on this old country road. The road had apparently just under gone some sort of construction because there was no gravel; there was just mud. And I realized that even going 15 or 20 miles per hour was pretty fast because I was almost on top of this T-intersection. So I hit the brakes and nothing happened. I just slid on the mud 3 or 4 car lengths towards the edge of a tall ditch, kinda like a cliff. The GTO came to a point where it slowed down and almost didn't go over the cliff, but then it did. The cliff was about 20-25 feet into the bottom end of a cornfield. Essentially the car fell off of this cliff just barely as if someone had flicked it with their finger. It wasn't like a flying, hurtling Duke's of Hazzard kind of leap off the cliff at all."
Despite the lack of drama in the launch, there was still a major impact when the GTO hit bottom and slid out into the cornfield. Randy's face banged the top part of the steering wheel, and he broke his nose and started bleeding all over the place. His knee lurched forward and hit the 8-track tape deck, breaking off the quarter-inch steel bolts that he had used to attach the tape player to the dashboard. Randy's kneecap broke and the tape player ended up over on the floor of the passenger side of the car.
The engine died and the headlights lights stayed on. Randy was stunned and a bit disoriented, but he clearly remembers what he heard. Over there on the floor the tape player—still wired up—kept on playing the "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die Rag" that Country Joe and the Fish played at Woodstock:
"Yeah, come on all of you, big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He’s got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam."
Randy tried to restart the car. Eventually he got the engine going but the car wouldn't move. He tried various gears, but it didn't feel right and he thought the transmission was broken. (He later found out that the shifter linkage popped loose on the impact of hitting nose-first into the cornfield. The engine was fine. There was a slight kink in the frame which had to be straightened. But he didn't know any of this at that moment.)
Randy was dazed from hitting his head so hard, so it took him a while to realize he wasn't going to be able to drive the GTO out of the cornfield. He had to get out of the car and climb up back up the cliff at a place that wasn't so steep. He had just been driving around wasting time so he didn't know where he was. He walked along the road hoping for someone to drive by. After about 15 or 20 minutes a farmer found him. The farmer seemed taken aback by his appearance, probably because his shirt was soaked in blood.
At that point, Randy said his memory gets fuzzy. He doesn't remember how he got home. He remembers asking the farmer if he could make a phone call from his house, but he doesn't remember if he called his Dad or someone else.
Randy said, "I was in no mood to talk to my Dad, I’ll tell you that. I knew I was just going to get a tongue-lashing, even though this was really an accident, and even though it wasn’t an act of negligence or hazardous driving on my part—but I knew none of those things would matter to him. The car got wrecked somehow, and I was the one in the driver’s seat."
Originally, Randy was to have received the GTO as a high school graduation present. That didn't happen because, as Randy tells it, "my high school graduation was less than standard; the phrase 'by the hair of my chinny chin chin' comes to mind" (a story I'll tell later). After the accident his Dad decided to sell the GTO, which Randy regrets, but at the time he didn't have money to buy it himself. The first attempt to sell the GTO launched a futile trip by Randy and his Dad to Phoenix and back in that car (yet another story to tell sometime).
After the car was eventually sold, there reports of the '65 Goat being seen driven by the next owner. The gorgeous Mayflower Maize had been re-painted Purple Metalflake. Hmmmm.
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He’s got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam."
Randy tried to restart the car. Eventually he got the engine going but the car wouldn't move. He tried various gears, but it didn't feel right and he thought the transmission was broken. (He later found out that the shifter linkage popped loose on the impact of hitting nose-first into the cornfield. The engine was fine. There was a slight kink in the frame which had to be straightened. But he didn't know any of this at that moment.)
Randy was dazed from hitting his head so hard, so it took him a while to realize he wasn't going to be able to drive the GTO out of the cornfield. He had to get out of the car and climb up back up the cliff at a place that wasn't so steep. He had just been driving around wasting time so he didn't know where he was. He walked along the road hoping for someone to drive by. After about 15 or 20 minutes a farmer found him. The farmer seemed taken aback by his appearance, probably because his shirt was soaked in blood.
At that point, Randy said his memory gets fuzzy. He doesn't remember how he got home. He remembers asking the farmer if he could make a phone call from his house, but he doesn't remember if he called his Dad or someone else.
Randy said, "I was in no mood to talk to my Dad, I’ll tell you that. I knew I was just going to get a tongue-lashing, even though this was really an accident, and even though it wasn’t an act of negligence or hazardous driving on my part—but I knew none of those things would matter to him. The car got wrecked somehow, and I was the one in the driver’s seat."
Originally, Randy was to have received the GTO as a high school graduation present. That didn't happen because, as Randy tells it, "my high school graduation was less than standard; the phrase 'by the hair of my chinny chin chin' comes to mind" (a story I'll tell later). After the accident his Dad decided to sell the GTO, which Randy regrets, but at the time he didn't have money to buy it himself. The first attempt to sell the GTO launched a futile trip by Randy and his Dad to Phoenix and back in that car (yet another story to tell sometime).
After the car was eventually sold, there reports of the '65 Goat being seen driven by the next owner. The gorgeous Mayflower Maize had been re-painted Purple Metalflake. Hmmmm.
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