I Confess, I Love 'Horny' Cars

My Uncle Ott, Rest His Soul . . .

OWNED A '56 BUICK. BUT NOT IN THIS COLOR. OTT'S WAS JET-BLACK. SHINED LIKE A NEW PENNY. AND HAD A HORN THAT COULD BE USED AS A SIREN TO WARN AGAINST BOMBING ATTACKS.
OWNED A '56 BUICK. BUT NOT IN THIS COLOR. OTT'S WAS JET-BLACK. SHINED LIKE A NEW PENNY. AND HAD A HORN THAT COULD BE USED AS A SIREN TO WARN AGAINST BOMBING ATTACKS.

OTHER VINTAGE CARS WITH "REAL" HORNS

1938 FORD PAETON
1938 FORD PAETON
1940 BUICK CUSTOM
1940 BUICK CUSTOM
1940 MERCURY CONVERTIBLE
1940 MERCURY CONVERTIBLE
1946 FORD CONVERTIBLE
1946 FORD CONVERTIBLE
1948 FORD COUPE'
1948 FORD COUPE'
1948 PLYMOUTH COUPE'
1948 PLYMOUTH COUPE'
1949 CHEVY FLEETLINE
1949 CHEVY FLEETLINE
THIS IS NOT A VINTAGE CAR. THIS BEAUTY IS MARISA TOMEI. I JUST THREW HER IN TO GIVE MY GUY READERS A SMILE.
THIS IS NOT A VINTAGE CAR. THIS BEAUTY IS MARISA TOMEI. I JUST THREW HER IN TO GIVE MY GUY READERS A SMILE.
1955 CHEVY - WITH EARLY LO-RIDER KIT
1955 CHEVY - WITH EARLY LO-RIDER KIT
1957 CHEVY - CUSTOMIZED
1957 CHEVY - CUSTOMIZED
1947 OLDSMOBILE
1947 OLDSMOBILE
THIS ISN'T A VINTAGE CAR EITHER. THIS IS A TRACTOR, THAT PULLS A TRAILER DOWN THE ROAD. AND HAS LOUD AIR HORNS THAT WOULD GIVE ANY JAYWALKER A HEART ATTACK.
THIS ISN'T A VINTAGE CAR EITHER. THIS IS A TRACTOR, THAT PULLS A TRAILER DOWN THE ROAD. AND HAS LOUD AIR HORNS THAT WOULD GIVE ANY JAYWALKER A HEART ATTACK.

This hub has nothing to do with cattle with horns. Sex in, out, or with cars. The delightful horn-section of the Lawrence Welk Orchestra. Or even blues legend, Louis Armstrong and his angelic-horn that entertained millions. No. I hate to admit this, but the headline is a bit deceptive. But what other way could "I" express my nostalgic, permanently-rooted feelings for those vintage cars (as seen in photos of this hub) that are only with us in museums or in some collector's garage guarded by ADT Home Security? I did what I thought best.

In all honesty, this hub is dedicated to one of my favorite uncles, Ottis Clark, now deceased, a resident of Pekin, Illinois. A lot can be said about Ottis. He was always. And I mean always, smiling. Laughing. And eating good food. Mostly the southern food delights that my grandma Avery cooked for him and her daughter, Arvilla, when they made their yearly trek from Illinois to Hamilton, Alabama, to visit with us country cousins.

I remember it well. I was seven. It was a hot summer day. I just happened to be out of school for summer vacation and was having to stay with grandma and grandpa Avery, my dad's parents, who lived in Hamilton. Staying with these elderly people was not a trip to the circus let me tell you. It was a true clash of ideas, ages, and attitudes. That pretty much sums it up. Okay. In one sentence. My grandpa, James Avery, would make it his business to "spy" on me while I was outside playing some imaginary game. James thought it best that I fit into the foolish and uncaring credo, "Children should be seen. Not heard," but me? I was a young rebel. I loved to run. Pretend to play football. Yell. And just be a seven-year-old kid. Obviously grandpa James had long forgotten what that was like.

I heard a loud noise coming down the gravel road to my grandparent's home. For a flash of a moment, my heart stopped. What I saw coming at me sending a ton of dust in the air was my uncle Ottis and aunt Arvilla. How did I know, even at seven, it was Ottis and Arvilla? Easy. Ottis would buy nothing but a big car. A Buick at that. He loved Buick's. Said once that General Motors should "rule the world," but people knew that he was an American and not a closet-Communist.

"Well, hello there, Kenny boy," Ottis yelled as he stopped his jet-black '56 Buick Roadmaster. "Hello, little Kenny," aunt Arvilla said in her finest Illinois tone. I nodded. Said, "Hi, uncle Ott. Aunt Arvilla," and continued staring at his new car. Ottis and Arvilla got out of the car. Stretched. And went inside the house to see grandpa and grandma Avery. Fine by me. This gave me a chance to inspect this "manufactured monster machine" that made my breath short. I opened driver's side door. Then it hit me. "That" certain new car aroma. You've inhaled this loving aroma haven't you? Nothing like it anywhere.

Without caring whom might be watching my frail, seven-year-old frame behind this huge steering wheel that was comparable to the wheel that steered the majestic riverboats up and down the Mississippi River. I felt like a man. I even felt grown-up as I looked in this huge rear-view mirror that a person could use to get dressed with. I was in heaven. Then I took my small hands and placed them on this massive steering wheel--sending waves of joy throughout my heart and soul. I pretended to be driving down a long, country road while bevy's of pretty girls stood along the pavement and waved at me. I didn't stop to ask them if they wanted a ride. Legendary film star, James Dean wouldn't have been proud of me if I had done that.

Then, for some foolish reason my right hand became possessed like the devil had taken over. My right hand moved from the steering wheel before I had time to wonder why and then it happened. An event, although alarming, changed something in me. Something deep. Something that would stay with me until today in 2012. I hit the silver horn that beckoned me like a sultry siren in downtown Birmingham, Alabama whom I had read about in my grandma Avery's GRIT newspaper. I had sinned. Given in to temptation. The sound of the horn was more like a bellowing cow lost from its herd. My ears hurt. Grandma Avery's chickens, who were scouring the ground around the car for worms, flew up in a cloud of dust and fear. This scared me more than grandpa Avery yelling from the rickety wooden back porch, "Get yourself outta that car . . .NOW. I mean it," what a drama queen. Red-faced. Fanning his gray flannel hat at me. Ottis and Arvilla only laughed behind his back. Ottis was like that. No harm done. I rolled out of Ottis' Buick and ran to grandpa's barn. And hid until time for my parents to pick me up when they got off work. To show you how LESS grandpa and grandpa Avery cared about my welfare, from 11 a.m. until 4 p.m., they never once came searching for me. Even at age seven, I knew that these two (hate to lie) poor excuses for grandparents didn't give a plug nickel for me. Sad. And true.

When my dad and mom arrived that evening things were fine. Daddy shook hands with his brother-in-law, Ottis. Kissed his sister, Arvilla. And the world continued to turn. But grandpa Avery, the contentious, know-it-all, just had to snitch to my dad about me blowing the horn on uncle Ottis' beautiful Buick. But to grandpa's chagrin, my dad only smiled at me. And never brought up this "transgression" again. My dad was like that. Sometimes.

I mean, what happened to the sound of loud, bellowing, melodic-horns on American automobiles? Did you ever stop to think about things such as this? It was as if, overnight, as we all slept and dreamed in false-secured thoughts and lifestyles, someone threw a switch on the engineering tables at the auto manufacturing plants in America and without as much as a decent warning, we lost our horns. No more loud horns. To me, a car is simply naked without a loud horn. Naked to be laughed at among car-designers of old. And pined-away-for by nostalgic fans like me. You want to know the truth? I hate the sounds of today's car horns. They all pretty much are a replication of the cartoon Roadrunner when he outruns Wiley Coyote. I despise that "meep, meep," sound that today's car horns make. Shameful. Laughable. And disgraceful.

The cars I used in this hub came fully-equipped with horns that COULD be heard. Down a city block. Or a country mile. No man, beast of fowl of the air could honestly testify that if they were in the right of way, and were warned by the horn from one of these 'manufactured masterpieces,' they they didn't hear the horn. A lie told by a liar. It was near-impossible to NOT hear the horns of these cars from our yesteryear's. Did you bother to think about this at any time? And when you bought you last car, say in the last eight years, did you bother to check the horn? That was second on the 'auto buyer's list' after making sure the car had a good engine. Making sure the car had a nice, loud horn for all to hear. My dad wouldn't drive a car that didn't have a horn that caused window panes to crack. I admired that about him.

What I'm trying to hard to say is to me, a car is just plain, flat-out sexy. Alluring, if it has a horn that can be heard above a girl's whisper. A loud horn might be the signal that a real man is behind the wheel, not a spineless, overly-sensitive, fearful of his shadow man who afraid of everything that moves. You can pretty much tell a lot about a man by the sound of his car horn. Try it sometime. No, don't. It won't work. No car or truck in modern society has a horn that says, "I'm a man." The horns on today's automobiles scream, "How "I" wish I WERE a man," and I know this is hard to swallow, but when I signed up for HubPages, I vowed to tell the truth for I love to be able to sleep nights.

Here's a automotive horn fact for you: have you ever wondered why over-the-road truckers get so many women? It's not their bank accounts. Not their clothing. And obviously not their Hollywood male movie star looks, but maybe it's the size and always-distinguishable sound of their air horns. The same can be said about men who own their own tugboats. A tractor-trailer rig and a tugboat have not changed their horns over the years. We American males who grew up with big cars with big engines and loud, sexy horns, need to thank our brothers who drive the big rigs and pilot their tugs up and down the rivers of our country for always keeping the "pure spirit of a loud horn" alive on their machines in a society that has all-but-forgotten what a real horn on a car sounds like.

Join with me, if you will by taking time to say "thanks" to the next trucker we see or the next tugboat pilot we run into. We might make his day by acknowledging that there are still some things in our society that will never change.

As for telling uncle Ottis how much I loved his horn . . .I blew it.


The "Ideal" Car For Single Guys . . .

A BEAUTIFUL '57 CHEVY BEL AIR. WITH FENDER SKIRTS, 283 CUBIC INCH ENGINE, LUXURIOUS INTERIOR AND A TRUE "CHICK MAGNET."
A BEAUTIFUL '57 CHEVY BEL AIR. WITH FENDER SKIRTS, 283 CUBIC INCH ENGINE, LUXURIOUS INTERIOR AND A TRUE "CHICK MAGNET."

More by this Author


Comments 10 comments

tillsontitan profile image

tillsontitan 4 years ago from New York

You had me smiling from the title to the last word, as always. You're imagination is so fantastic and you load up with little facts in between. Who but you would write about the new 'noiseless' horns we have? Where's a good ahooga horn anyway? Just to let you know I married a trucker who now owns a '38 Ford and a '65 Mustang convertible. How's that for a man's man ;) Loved the hub. Voted up, funny and interesting. Thanks for SHARING.


kenneth avery profile image

kenneth avery 4 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama Author

Hello, tillsontitan, "Thank YOU so MUCH for your very SWEET comments. I have MISSED you so much. Im so glad that I got to hear from a VERY-Talented lady today. I had this subject on mind for a long time and just decided to share it today. Now to rest my aching neck and back. You married a REAL MAN. I wish now that I had included those delightful ahooga horns. I love the '38 Fords and yes, the '65 Mustang....reckon it'd help me at this stage of my life to attract a "chick?" Tell your husband, way to go! And to you, LOVED your comments. You are so welcome. Visit again SOOOOOOON!

Your Friend,

Kenneth


catgypsy profile image

catgypsy 4 years ago from the South

Haha...very clever title Kenneth! Great story!


Angela Blair profile image

Angela Blair 4 years ago from Central Texas

I remember those horns -- and also dating guys driving a 1957 Chevy Bel Air -- drew this chick back then! Super Hub, Kenneth and enjoyable from beginning to end. I loved your Uncle Ottis -- my Uncle Ottis was named "Uncle Buck" -- how fortunate we are to have had them in our kid lives. Best/Sis


kenneth avery profile image

kenneth avery 4 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama Author

Hello, Dear catgypsy,

Thank YOU for being lured-in by the headline, but the story WAS true. I had an uncle Ottis and I loved his '56 Buick. But that horn was LOUD, I tell you. Even the neighbors thought it was the Second Coming of Christ. Good times.

Take care, my DEAR friend.

KENNETH


kenneth avery profile image

kenneth avery 4 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama Author

Hi, Angela,

Uncle Buck, I loved John Candy in that movie. Oh how I wish car makers would go back to LOUD horns. For the sanity of this old guy. ME! I cannot cope with the wimpy "deep deep" of Camry's and Nissan's. Thanks for your sweet comment. I appreciate it very much as well as the votes.

Kenneth


catgypsy profile image

catgypsy 4 years ago from the South

I knew the story was true, I just meant it was a great story from your life. That's what makes your Hubs so much fun and so personal to us, that you share real stories about yourself with us.

Take care, my dear friend.


kenneth avery profile image

kenneth avery 4 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama Author

My Dear catgypsy,

thank you, MY Dear Friend, for your comment. This IS true. Uncle Ottis, or Ott, was, in relation to his personality, like I always wanted to be--funny, witty and making people laugh. He was a purely-natural comedian. I miss him sometimes. Terribly. And his wife, my aunt, Arvilla. She was so gentle that even stinging insects didnt bother her. Ive seen this happen.

YOU have a good day, cat, and take care.

Your Life Long Friend,

Kenneth


Sueswan 4 years ago

Dearest Kenneth

I really enjoyed this one. :)

You mentioned that you despise the "meep meep" sound that today's car horns make. I didn't like the Roadrunner. His "meep meep" was so annoying thatI always wished that Willie Coyote would catch him. lol

Years ago I collected old model cars. 1930 Model J Dusenberg, 1937 Ford Model B12 Supercharged, 1928 Mercedes Benz and 1930 SS 100 Jaguar are a few of the cars I have in my collection.

Voted up up and away

Hope you have a good Saturday!


kenneth avery profile image

kenneth avery 4 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama Author

Dearest Susan,

thank you so much for your comment on horny cars. Now a good friend of mine, back in the day, his name was, and is, Brent, he was the FIRST to own a Roadrunner when they came out and he Ran the car into the ground. But goodness at the girls he got with that one car!!!! I dont like the meep meep sound much. But as for your car models, you are a blessed lady. These are valuable. Hold onto them if you can.

Thanks again!

Kenneth

    Sign in or sign up and post using a HubPages Network account.

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs will be hyperlinked. Comments are not for promoting your articles or other sites.


    Click to Rate This Article
    working