Memoirs of Miss Daisy

As told to Francis Geronimo

My name is Miss Daisy. I am a 45-year-old Chevrolet Series 210 Two-Door (Post) Sedan. I was the 4,251st automobile that Chevy built in 1957 at the General Motors Plant in Oakland, California.

I remember that year. The guys at the GM plant sprayed me with a combination of two colors. Most of my body was painted Dusk Pearl while my roof and the triangle shaped portions of my side rear panels were finished in Imperial Ivory. My spacious interior was upholstered in ivory vinyl and charcoal gray cloth. They installed a 283 cubic inch V8 engine with a Rochester 2-barrel carburetor onto my chassis and mated to it a cast iron Powerglide 2-speed automatic transmission to deliver power to my 3.36 geared rear end. Then they put on wide white sidewall tires on rims painted my body color, and shiny hubcaps with the distinctive "bowtie" logo. When I was done I rolled off the assembly line and into the dealer showroom floor of Parker-Robb Chevrolet. Very soon, a sweet little lady liked my unusual color and tailfins and drove me home.

On the streets of the San Francisco Bay Area, I noticed interesting cars that also sported tailfins: Ford Fairlanes, Plymouth Furys, Dodge Coronets, Cadillacs, and DeSotos, just to name a few. Tons of chrome, wide white-sidewall tires, and eight-cylinder engines seemed to be the order of the day, too. Thousands of them, after years of useful service, would later end up in the salvage yards to rot but still thousands like myself would survive in the hands of our loving owners. A few fortunate others would make it to Hollywood stardom like the ’55 Chevy and ’58 Plymouth from the movies "Two Lane Blacktop" and "Christine" respectively.

I would spend my weekdays taking a young Beaver Cleaver look-alike to school or his mom to the neighborhood supermarket for groceries. Weekends were usually spent at the 50’s diner or at the drive-in movies, and later during the early sixties, at the parking lot of the Giants’ Candlestick Park listening to the cheers of Major Baseball League fans.

I performed my road duties in the East Bay for more than ten years until my unexpected semi-retirement came. The energy crisis of the 70’s forced me into hibernation. A little gasoline-conscious Honda I shared the garage with assumed my usual grocery errands and routine trips, while I just sat there only to be driven occasionally. My tomodachi from Japan could do 30 miles to a gallon of gas while I could only manage around 15 mpg.

In 1990 I moved to San Mateo, California where I was commissioned into active duty again. My shoes were getting worn out then. It was time for a new set of 245 60/14 BF Goodrich Radial T/A tires and Cragar SS/T custom wheels to replace my white sidewall tires and stock rims. I felt I was getting old but this change alone sort of rejuvenated me. I have always wanted to don a "hot-rod" image. I knew it would take more than a set of fat tires to achieve "the" look so I decided to put on more muscle in the form of a healthy 350 cubic inch (5.7 liter) small block Chevy V8 equipped with an aluminum hi-rise intake manifold, Holley 4 barrel carburetor, mild camshaft, and a set of free flowing headers that ran through dual mufflers. The heavy cast iron tranny had to go too. In its place went a lighter aluminum 3 speed Turbo Hydramatic 350.

In 1997 I sailed across the Pacific to my new home in Quezon City, Philippines. The journey was a long and lonely one. I didn’t exactly enjoy being locked up inside a dark twenty-foot freight container for about a month. Man, was I seasick! When I finally saw daylight, I realized I was at the Port of Manila where I spent almost another month at "Stalag 17" exposed to the elements together with a herd of Pajeros, BMWs, and Mercedes Benzes also waiting to be released. Francis, my present owner, bailed me out after paying the inevitable taxes and duties.

I can recall my first day on the road in Manila, barely a few miles away from the port. Since it was a hot and humid day in June, my temperature hit the 230 deg. Fahrenheit mark. My original cooling system could not cope with the intense tropical heat. I did manage to make it home, however. I was introduced to my new garage mate, a 1973 Z28 Camaro, just one of the thousands of Detroit iron that made Clark Air Force Base its home in the early 70’s.

Soon after, I got myself a four-row radiator, an improvised shroud, and a 16-inch auxiliary fan to help cool me down. Airconditioning has become a necessity, now that I am thousands of miles away from the cool climate of Northern California. A Sanden 508 aircon compressor gets the job done. To make sure that I don’t bump into those wayward jeepneys and tricycles, my brakes were also upgraded to power-assisted front discs while retaining the original rear drums. In the future I am hoping for power-assisted steering so I can easily maneuver around the potholes of Metro Manila.

One good thing usually leads to another. A new paint job was in order. Just a few dings and dents were eradicated to straighten my sheetmetal. I decided to retain my original "unusual" color, which was done in Anzahl polyurethane. Soon enough I was ready to go cruising!

I made friends with some nice American cars I met near McDonald’s at Greenhills. They usually hang out there on Saturday nights. Among them are a black 1956 Chevy 210, a couple of cool 2nd-generation Camaros, a maroon 1967 "LT-1" powered Camaro Convertible, a white 1970 Chevelle, a pair of red big block El Caminos, a few 1969 Camaros, and a white Caprice "Police Pursuit Car" collectively known as the "Everyday Holiday American Muscle Car Club." Arriving at the scene I can almost hear them say, "Here comes Shu!" No, it is not short for Schumacher, but rather, for "Shoebox", a nickname given to Chevys and a few other cars of my era. McDonald’s hamburgers, French fries, apple pies, and Chevrolets at the parking lot! I felt very much at home!

At present I work only on weekends and holidays as compared to the six or seven days a week when I was younger. I zoom along Quezon Avenue, Katipunan, Libis, and Greenhills. When I feel like getting a bit of cool fresh air, I make those longer trips to Tagaytay or Baguio. Most of the time I rest at home, reminiscing about the good old days; or I’d just be making short trips to the neighborhood sari-sari store for some suka or patis. It’s been many years since I parted with the little lady from California who chose me to be her grocery-getter. I hope she is doing fine. Did she buy a brand new Chevy or a Japanese SUV? I wonder if she still thinks about me and my tailfins once in a while. I am quite sure she does because I can still remember what she whispered to me when she said goodbye, " You are a car that not only carries people; but also memories!"