“Dinkin” the Winter Blues Away
They sat at the ends of long driveways or on long abandoned cart paths cut into woods off the back roads. They were usually a decade old or more. Some were in pretty good condition just replaced by a shinier and newer model. Some smoked like chimney’s proclaiming their need of a mechanics magic or just singing their death song. But don’t fool yourself. Some were gems in the rough. Their cost was anything from free to $100 and negotiations were expected. We called them DinkMobiles. To others they were junks, cheap transportation or eyesores.
Come fall we would start the hunt just like the camo dressed deerslayers would take to the woods we would take to the roads and search for our own quarry. Some were legendary in their provision of great fun and some gave up the ghost all too easy. There should be a Hall of Fame and a Hall of Shame made to the Great and Noble DinkMobile!! A Masterdon by today’s timeline but a great memory in a older mans heart.
I don’t remember who started it or where the diabolical idea came from. I don’t remember the first DinkMobile. Such information has been struck from modern memory, at least mine (Al Zimer may have something to do with that). But here is how I remember it.
Curtain opens on a 57’ Olds sitting in a lower driveway. Paint is a little faded and part of the headliner has fallen down. The steering wheel is full of cracks but the big fancy chrome dash is sparkling like the sun glinting off a windswept bass lake on the summer solstice. There is enough room in the beast to pile a cord of winter fire wood. The owner is on his way down to see what this gang of boys is doing to his prize. By the time he gets there we have the hood open and are thrilled to see the big V-8 staring right back at us. That engine feels us. It knows us. It knows that we will end it’s time in high RPM glory and sent it to Engine Valhalla doing what all big displacement engines were meant to do. Put smiles on the faces of the men and boys who drive them.
After the owner chastises us for touching his gOLDSie without permission and he realizes we are there for her with real folding cash he softens and tells us her history. He bought her new for his 50th birthday and here 12 years later they are going to part ways. She has taken him far and wide and owes him nothing. Obviously this is not true or he wouldn’t be asking the $75 written on the cardboard sign in the window. So we listen, hoping our sympathy may yet garner a $25 or maybe even a $50 discount. He starts the beast and it purrs like a kitten (oh we’ll fix that I think!). He tells us everything works except the radio (oh we’ll fix that too I think). So our designated buyer Abe offers him $40 cash and the guy flintches. But it’s got good tires and doesn’t burn MUCH oil or leak MUCH oil for that matter. “It runs like a top! $60!” he says. Abe says $50 and that concludes the deal. gOLDSie is OURS.
He writes out a BIL O’SALE and we are outta there. BOY he sure didn’t mentions the ORIGINAL SHOCKS we discover as we are wallowing down the street. But who needs stinkin’ shocks anyway!!! We don' neeeeed no steenkin' shocks!! THIS IS A DINKMOBILE BABY!!!! A SNOWPLOWING, DINK HUNTIN, GUTTER RIDING, AVENGER OF WARM WEATHER AND FOE TO OLD MAN WINTER AND HIS MIND NUMMING DOLDRUMS. WITH THIS VEHICLE WE WILL STAB AT COLD AND ICE AND DRIVE THE WINTER FROM OUR LANDS! …….Sorry I got a little carried away there!
gOLDSie has about 20 hands working her over. A cheap tuneup and a check on the hood latch (important Dinking knowledge). Rip the rest of the headliner down before it falls down. Put a few wire coat hangers in the car just in case something needs to be wired down or back on. A set of old registration plates just to get to good Dink areas and something to hang from the mirror just to act as a telltale as to how the car was jumping around while actually in a Dink Run. A good Dinkin’ year meant a lot of snowfalls and a lot of cheap cars to be had.
Right on que old man winter takes a mighty dump on us and the herd of snow plows prepares our target track. This year’s crop looks primo. There are snowballs ranging from 1 foot in diameter to 2 with a few 3 footers sprinkled in various places. There is almost 2 feet of constant snow just outside the banks. Perfect! This untouched snow is just enough to hide exciting things that eventually or should I say usually delivers the coup de grace (killing blow). Things like stumps, culverts rocks and a refrigerator have all brought sudden death or a time or two a badly hurt but noble beast surprisingly has limped us back at least close to our hangout. We usually had a chase car but not always and it was almost as fun being in the chase car as it was in the DinkMobile. It is too bad this was well before video recorders because some of the sights were truly hilarious.
Dinking 101
When buying the car use the name of someone you really don’t like. Best scenario is to buy the car out of town. Secure all lose items in the car. Carry only enough tools to remove the hood if need be and registration plates. Pray to the snow god. Sacrifice a meatball/pepper sandwich if he/she does not cooperate with copious amounts of snow. Scope out your Dinkin’ route before the snow flies. This doesn’t guarantee safe Dinkin’ it just enlarges your gonads and ensures you will Dink at maximum fun speed ensuring maximum adrenaline giggles and screams of “What was I thinking?” after the beast has died. A helmet while deemed to be a wussie move could provide protection from a back seat head meeting a front seat head or slamming where the headliner was with “little birdies and stars” force. One co-patriot thought a pillow would be a good idea but discovered the other Dinkers were jealous and sliced the down pillow on the countdown to a legendary Dink Run. The feathers provided a surrealistic snowstorm INSIDE the car as the real snow flew outside the car. One last note is to always plot your course on a back road. Other drivers that happen across a Dinking vehicle at first think they are seeing a horrific accident happening before their eyes. Then they get a “You guys are MORONS!” look on their face when the figure out you ACTUALLY ARE a car FULL of MORONS and mutter a vow of celibacy so as to not add to our numbers.
So you have a Noble Dinkmobile all rigged to run. You have a course picked and there is 2 feet of snow on the ground. The Plows have complied and evil Dinks wait in ambush on the roadsides. Draw straws, throw fingers or last man standing should decide the driver of the beast. It’s also more fun if the craziest dude in the group holds this esteemed position. Then who is in front and who is in back must be decided before the Official Dink Countdown begins.
3…2….1….remove the safeties….”and the monkey lights the fuse”.. main engines coming on line…….power at maxium…..……NOW! Ludicrous SPEED! With the scenery only a blur out the side windows you see the first Dink a little ahead. Trepidation tells you to take it off the right bumper and a WHUMP and the steering wheel snatches to the right but you were ready and keep her on the road. That was not so bad but it was only a small dink. After a few more your tightey whities are fitting a little more snugly with your increased size when a larger Dink appears on the radar. This one really tugs at your grip and a little snow is blown up over the hood surprising you….. but YOU ARE DA MAN. The crowd is calling for more as a stove sized Dink rises like a specter flipping you da bird and making rude noises in your general direction… and you train the hood ornament on it. The Dink explodes over the hood of the car showering the Dinkmobile with Dinkguts and Dink Hemoglobin AND you smile knowing you have killed a trophy Dink… AND that’s when the right side tire digs in and drags the beast off the road and into the unknown. Suddenly the beast is slamming, banging and bucking. Dinkguts is being thrown up at great amounts over the hood which hopefully stays latched. The god awful sound of Dinks being bludgeoned under the car fills your poor poor ears and you wonder if she will blow when the exhaust system gives up and pulls the ejector handle.
If you are good and if you are still conscious you might be able to wrestle the car back onto the road. If she truly is a Dinkmobile she will want to go offroad again. That is if you have not crushed and ripped open the oil pan or taken off a wheel. Sometimes they will just start squealing but eagerly search for the next victims. Another weak point is the radiator but it will usually give you some time before overheating. The cold helps longevity and it adds to the ambiance to see great billowing clouds of steam or condensation piling out of the front of the beast. At times we had Dinkmobiles 12 feet off the road and doing 40 mph through 2+ feet of snow only to come back and keep going. But some cars were also duds and took almost no punishment at all before all animation faded from their lives.
Oh but there were the great ones too. Al’s 53 Chevy bubble top comes to mind. We were going downhill about 45-50mph and a road went off to the left on a 30 degree angle and steeply down. The sides of the road sloped back up at a crazy angle but were littered with great dinks. Al just cranked into the shoulder that grabbed us and brought us up the slope… and just like that we rolled. The top of that car was just like the old sledding flying saucers. We came down the roadside spinning like a top and onto the road where we slid another 100 feet or so just spinning away. The car ended up in the middle of the street like a giant egg. We were the yokes and we were scrambled. No serious injuries, in fact we hurried up and gathered about a dozen guys and righted the beast which continued serious Dinking after a timeout. The real bummer is I think back on all the DinkMobiles and there are a few that I would absolutely love to have today. That 53’ Chevy is one of them.
The end of Dinkin’
Dinkin lasted a couple of years. It was at the end of the second Dinkin season and Spring was in the air. The snow and Dinks were but a recent memory when a bunch of us were riding around in a DinkMobile just itching for Dinktrouble. Roddney was driving the old Fairlane and we pulled into a Town Park and Recreation area. Sometime during the winter a truck had dumped a load of sand at one end of the parking lot. Someone in the car spotted it and called out the LAST Dink of the Season. Wha? A sandpile? So Roddney pulls up and looks at the innocent looking sandpile and then does the unthinkable. He puts the Fairlane in reverse and slowly backs up. Half of us are egging him on and half are beseeching him to think it over. He gets us about 100 yards away from the very evil dink.
The Fairlane is pretty nice. Slow as frozen molasses but a solid nice car all the same. It seemed like everything everywhere held its breath. The universe knew that an era was ending and in an infinitesimal little corner of it a bunch of local country crazies were ending a chapter of life in which they were supermen. Afraid of nothing since each and every one of them were immortal and would live forever raising Cain, laughing and joking. As the tires on that old Fairlane started to roll we all came together and let our waning youth spill out with a rebel yell. 10mph….20….30 we hit the sandbank going maybe 40mph and the little sandbank’s force field held. The Fairlane went from 40mph to ZERO in about ¼ of an INCH and about 1/1000th of a second. NO…. I am wrong here! PARTS of the Fairlane went to ZERO in that miniscule time. Some parts became suddenly customized and some parts relocated to a new ZIP CODE. The carbon based life forms careened off whatever was in front of them at the time of impact. A spiritual person would have seen souls rising suddenly from the car trying desperately to separate from their dumb as stumps earthly vessels. Only to be yanked back by youthful invincibility. But I think we were all given a warning that day. Some heard and some thumbed their nose at the booming voice.
I run into those that listened from time to time and I often think about those who didn’t listen. One of the things it did was to prove to me the importance of seatbelts but those were not invented until a few years later. Well, that’s about it for Dinkin’ ….I wouldn’t have missed it for the world but if you think that was crazy ask me about BellyWompin’ sometime. At times I am genuinely surprised any of us are still around. I am also genuinely saddened that some of us are not. To those who have gone before me I say this…”Well met!”!
In winter I still see Dinks and they take me back. For some reason today’s Dinks don’t seem to measure up to yesterday’s Dinks. Maybe it snowplow design, maybe it’s snowstorm design. Maybe it’s just growing up. Nah! That’s just crazy talk! I never grew up! Anybody got a real cheap runner?
DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!!! THESE STUNTS WERE PERFORMED BY BRAIN DAMAGED KIDS WHO TEASED THE BULL AND LIVED. YOUR EXPERIENCES MAY BE DIFFERENT! HORRIBLY DIFFERENT!! THERE ARE THOSE WHO ARE CALLED AND SOME WHO ARE CULLED!! BE THE FORMER!!!
Be Well
AmbergrismOoOn
