Built tough enough to withstand Aussie conditions, they said. Wouldn’t skip a beat, they said. They were wrong.
Driving in the dead of night on a remote stretch of the Pacific Highway one Christmas Eve, my ancient 1962 Holden EK suddenly became as quiet as an electric car.
The cogs on the Holden engine’s fragile timing gear – made from a fibrous material rather than metal – had sheared, disabling the engine instantly.
In that moment I went from driver to passenger, but had enough room on the long stretch of road to eventually roll to a stop.
At close to midnight – when the rest of Australia was already asleep – the full moon lit up the mountain ranges just south of Bulahdelah, a remote town on the Pacific Highway inland of the NSW mid-north coast.
No passing cars. No mobile phone coverage. No pay phone. And one conked-out Holden.
I had embarked on my first big solo drive as a teenager and freshly minted P-plater in a very old car.
The taste of freedom came in a yellow cheeseburger wrapper. The smell of freedom was the heavy scent of vinyl seats, old carpet flooring, and a whiff of petrol coming in through the air vents. Or through holes in the firewall.
Coasting along with the gentle bounce of well-worn suspension and skinny tyres way past their used-by date, I soon learned why movie stars in old films moved the steering wheel so much when pretending to drive.
The steering was so vague in the Holden EK, you could wriggle the wheel back and forth and the car would still drive in a straight line.
After staring at the universe – and pondering how to get out of this bind – a highway patrol police car happened to drive past and I was able to flag them down to get a lift into town.
That’s when I fell in love with Holden Commodore V8s. It sounded glorious as the highway patrol officer floored it on the way into Bulahdelah, where we woke the town’s tow-truck driver.
The local workshop took about a month to repair the engine, after waiting for replacement parts for this rare car.
The hope was the Holden EK would be as good as new when I got it back. In reality, it was merely as good as a new very-old car.
When it rained, the four-wheel drum brakes filled with water. So when you applied the brake pedal, it was always a surprise to discover which direction the car was going to dart each time.
The 138 cubic-inch ‘grey motor’ (so named because Holden painted it grey) was an in-line 2.26-litre six-cylinder engine with a modest 75 horsepower (56kW in the modern parlance, or about half as much as today’s Toyota Corolla four-cylinder).
The engine was paired to a three-speed automatic transmission (the first auto fitted to a Holden), which made the EK even more lethargic. The official name: Hydra-Matic.
Holden’s brochure at the time described it as “exciting” and a “thrilling new look of luxury”.
However, in Australian shorthand it was quickly dubbed the ‘Highly Dramatic’. It would slur gear-changes like a drunk slurs their words. Sometimes, reverse would work.
This car was built in an era when Holden had close to – or at times in excess of – a staggering 50 per cent share of the new-car market.
In other words, one in every two new cars sold in Australia was a Holden.
The Australian outpost of US car giant General Motors did not need to try particularly hard to attract customers because high tariffs priced imported vehicles out of reach.
More than 150,000 examples of the Holden EK – in sedan, wagon, ute and panel van body styles – were built from mid-1961 to mid-1962, accounting for roughly half the 300,000 or so new cars reported as sold across all car brands in 1962.
Aside from the regular mechanical letdowns, Holden EK ownership was brutal – emotionally and physically.
To create the wrap-around windscreen design, the front roof pillar had a sharp elbow to make way for the door to open and close.
My knees still haven’t forgiven me. I lost count of the bruises and the number of times I thumped my knees as I got in the car.
The dashboard was metal. Metal. The steering wheel was so thin it always felt like it was about to snap in your hands.
The seatbelt – a strip of frayed fabric worn loosely across the body because it did not retract – was more of a legal requirement than a functioning safety device.
I learned not to be too heavy with the foot-operated high beam switch (a great invention, actually, when it worked).
The spring behind the foot-operated button was a bit iffy. Sometimes the high beam would switch off on command, and sometimes it would not.
Fortunately the headlights were so weak, oncoming traffic couldn’t pick the difference between low and high beam.
I also learned the hard way not to use clear tyre-shine on the front bench seat – after taking a turn a bit too quickly and sliding across to the passenger side.
For all its foibles, I loved that car.
Wind-up windows. Quarter windows in lieu of air-conditioning. No radio. It really was the simple life.
The lack of side mirrors mandated over-shoulder head checks when changing lanes.
Today’s cars have wide-view side mirrors, blind-zone warning, and radar sensors.
The Holden EK also doubled as accommodation during my early days attending the Bathurst car races, where I met rev-head mates, most of whom are still friends today.
After finally getting the Holden EK to a level of reliability, our time together came to a premature end after another car ran a stop sign.
Fortunately, no-one was injured, despite the best efforts of the metal dashboard, brittle steering wheel, and poor excuse for a seatbelt.
I still miss the Holden EK today, not only because of the long-lasting memories, but because it cured me of old cars.
After the Holden EK experience, I worked around the clock to be able to afford a brand-new vehicle.
From there it was a string of Suzuki Swift GTIs, a Mitsubishi Lancer GSR, a Subaru WRX (Rally Blue, gold wheels), three Holden Commodore V8 utes (and one HSV Maloo), before eventually working my way through a pair of Ford Fiesta ST hot hatches (one black, one white, owned back-to-back).
Then I caught the double-cab ute and four-wheel-drive bug. Recent new-car purchases include a pair of Volkswagen Amarok utes (a Core V6 first, then a Highline V6), a Toyota LandCruiser 200 Series GXL (my true love), a Suzuki Jimny and, finally, a new-generation Ford Ranger Raptor.
The quandary for me: testing more than 200 new cars a year, we get a taste of everything. And I fall in love with so many cars I want to buy all of them – so I don’t need to hand them back after the week-long test.
So, it is thanks to the salmon-pink Holden EK (officially named Pyramid Coral by Holden) I now have an addiction for new cars.
A habit I will resume as soon as I stop searching online for an immaculate Holden EK in this colour.
The post My first car: 1962 Holden EK appeared first on Drive.
