This drunk, y'see, driving along Third/Blaine Street west from 395 left the road and plowed almost directly head-on into the TD at a location marked by a red dot on the UCR/RIR page. I don't remember what kind of car he was driving, but I did and do remember his slurred speech a few seconds after the collision. I did an impression for the jury at his DUI trial, an impression the City Attorney asked me to repeat. I don't even know if the guy was convicted.

What's certain is that I elected to sell the wreckage rather than have it rebuilt. I thought I saw the frame was bent, and I'd never have confidence in it again. It might have been the wrong decision. I might have been sad and angry enough about having my "cherry MG" ruined that I didn't want to go through the struggle of making it perfect again. Any road, '53 MGs were going for eight hundred dollars. I took $1,500 from the drunk's insurance company and put it in the bank.

In case you missed it, you can see the TD during happier times (a few hours earlier on the day of the accident) HERE.

So begins the second or so chapter of the 1953 Ford saga: it was at that juncture I moved to the Blaine Street residence I had been visiting at the time of the accident, and borrowed the '53 Ford for transportation. Among the places it transported me (and several conjugations of "us") was to the Long Beach Marina, where we took that boat to Catalina. Continued on the 1953 Ford convertible pages.