Betsy the Stripper

Betsy was born on January 12, 1970. She was a small-town girl, spending her first few years as a stripper in Sterling, Kansas. "Stripper" was a term coined by early racers to refer to a purpose-built car that had materials and trim removed to save weight on the dragstrip. The term quickly came to refer to any bare-bones econo-car stripped of options. Either way, Betsy was a stripper from the day she was born— no optional extras and no power anything, just a simple base-model fastback.

One snowy winter night just before she turned 23, my friend Ned found her sitting on a curb. She was only 4 feet, 2 inches tall, and weighed less than 2800 pounds. He urged me to rescue her, so I shelled out $700 and took her back to my place, where we could get to know each other a little better.

Betsy's road had been a long hard one, and she'd been beat up a few times. Her body still looks good; all her scars are under the skin. For instance, she's wearing a black vinyl top. That was not a Ford factory option. But back in the day, vinyl was sometimes used as a cosmetic cover-up for flawed bodywork. In this case, Betsy's left sail panel still hasn't healed properly.

I learned that when she was young, she liked to smash. But she was abused, and suffered a violent assault. And at least once, someone banged her from behind.

But the car was repaired and eventually a man from McCook, Nebraska bought it as a 'Sweet Sixteen' birthday present for his daughter. She's the one who named it "Betsy", and I didn't want to confuse the car by changing its name.

On the night I bought the car, this girl showed me some photographs of her boyfriend and his big ol' 4x4 truck, all muddy in the mud and getting muddy. I didn't like seeing my new car in the background of these photos. She'd been mud-wrestling, too.

Yep... Betsy the Stripper was in some dirty pictures.

After I got her moved in, I began her lifestyle of clean living by using a garden trowel to shovel dirt out of the trunk. Every part on the car needed to be fixed or replaced. Usually both. Often twice. Some still.

Betsy suffers from rustophilia— she's allergic to water. Prolonged exposure makes her break out in a weird orange-brown rash. Then I have to apply ointment, custom-mixed by PPG Automotive Finishes.

But she's got a sense of humor; she likes to pull pranks. Like the one dark, moonless night when we were just flyin' along a lonely highway in the middle of nowhere, and I was suddenly struck blind! It is not cool when everything instantly goes black at 65 miles an hour...

I'd given Betsy a brand-new headlight switch, but now she wanted a new high-beam switch to go with it.

Then there was the time I got her brake implants. As I was bringing her home, a Camaro suddenly stopped short in front of us. I stomped on the brakes and bang! nothing happened and I had to swerve, ditching the car into somebody's yard.

Her brakes are manual drums: locomotive brakes. Meaning, they provide the stopping distance of a train. With a heavy clutch, driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic is a great way to build your leg muscles. And while stomping and jamming with both feet, cranking the manual steering box helps tone your upper body.

In 1993, my friend Ned helped me get her all dressed up with wheels and wings and a new yellow coat. Then he called her a slut. I think he was just jealous because he wanted to spend the night with her. But I'm committed. It's been thirty years but to this day, if I grab her stick and get her all revved up... she'll still show me a good time.

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