Chapter 1 - I Buy Beezle
It was a 1967 Falcon Futura Sports Coupe. HOT car! Copper metallic-flake body, black vinyl top. It was the family car I had inherited and drove until 1972.
Then, being a young adult, I felt it was time to buy my own ride. My parents' donation was the Falcon. After exhaustive research, I found the cheapest car I could locate and went to have a look. The car lot was in Santa Monica, CA and primarily sold Fords. As a sideline, they also sold a nutty little new import called the Honda 600.
There were two models of the 600 - the sedan and the coupe. The sedan was reminiscent of a Mini Cooper, only smaller. (You heard me.) The coupe was more expensive than the sedan, but I had to shell out the dough for one critical reason - my guitar in its case did not fit in the sedan. However, the hatchback coupe, with its fold-down cargo space, fit the bill. When positioned diagonally, my guitar case just fit. Sold!
With the Falcon as a down payment, tax, license, all that stuff - $2,000 out the door. The beautiful blue 1972 Honda 600 Coupe was mine.
Here's the first ridiculous story I remember about the car. Other than the fact that everyone made fun of it immediately, especially the "diving mask" gasket around the rear hatch. It's because of these stories that I'm writing the Honda 600 memoirs.
I was in the right lane, waiting to make a right turn, behind a bus. It picked up and dropped off its passengers at the bus bench, then pulled away from the curb and stopped at the red light.
I could see that there was actually enough room for me to squeeze through on the right and make my turn. I stopped next to the bus, cautiously waiting to make sure the crosswalk was clear. The bus door opened. A lady was thanking the bus driver for letting her out, because she had forgotten that this was her stop. But instead of stepping off of the bottom step and stepping out onto the street, she stuck her leg into my driver's side window. Yes, folks. The driver's side window of the Honda 600 was about the same height as the bottom step of a bus. Anyway, I politely tapped her on the ankle which backfired and there was screaming involved. I believe she leapt back into the bus while I made my right turn and subsequent getaway.