Leapin' Leana, the Dream Machine

The author's sister, Betty, and her friend enjoy Lee's first car, appropriately nicknamed Leapin' Leana.

Betty shows off Leapin' Leana, the Dream Machine.

When I was 13 or 14 years old, we were living in the desert on a large farm that had been carved out of the sagebrush. I had dreamed of having my own car, and as a young lad, I even made my own electric car out of used lumber and an old washing-machine motor.

The only problem with this early version of today's modern electric vehicles was that mine had a limited range. It was limited to the length of an extension cord that was plugged into the electrical outlet. I collected a lot of electrical wire and managed to extend my travel to about 75 feet back and forth in front of the house. As a result of this endeavor, my father decided that it was time I had my very own car.

In early 1951, someone had discarded an old 1932 Chevrolet sedan. They had chopped the top off at window level and welded the doors shut so you had to climb -- or leap -- over the side to enter. The car was in truly bad shape. It would not even run. However, my father saw its potential, and we hauled the old wreck home. We dug a pit about 4 feet deep and pushed the car over it. Then we started to work on the old clunker -- or as it looked to my young eyes, the fantastic dream machine.

Dad showed me how to rebuild the engine and the complete running gear. After what seemed like an eternity to me, we replaced the fuel, filled it with water and oil, added a battery, and lo and behold, it started.

After Dad demonstrated all the proper procedures for operating this beautiful, wonderful dream machine, he gave me the keys (actually, it had a toggle switch). My only restrictions were that I could not drive it on the public highway -- only on the dirt roads around the farm and desert -- because I was not old enough for a driver's license, and the car did not have license plates, nor was it registered. But being young, I soon forgot these restrictions.

Naturally, my new vehicle made me quite the hit, and I was the envy of my peers. I would drive out to the old airport -- a former World War II training site, which was now overgrown with weeds, sagebrush and tumbleweeds -- and chase rabbits with the car. It was a glorious time.

I had the car personalized with my name on the driver's door, and my friends painted their names on it as well. On one side I had the inscription "Don't laugh, lady, your daughter may be in here." On the opposite side was "All girls who smoke, throw your butts in here."

When I became old enough to get my driver's license, I was ready to move up to a more appropriate 1941 Chevrolet coupe, a car with real license plates, which I could drive to school and into town. It was with a bit of sadness that I sold Leapin' Leana, the Dream Machine.

I did not know that a photo had ever been taken of Leapin' Leana, but the other day, I came across three old negatives of photos my sister, Betty, had taken of her and her friend with the car. These photos really brought back the memories of days long ago -- days of freedom and lack of worries, the bygone days of youth.