ODDS ‘N’ SODS — Return of the ’60 Pontiac

In 1958, my dad was working at the Quirke uranium mine of Rio Algom in Elliot Lake, Ont., as a raise miner and, later, a shift boss.

For a number of years, he made the journey every second week from Kirkland Lake, where we lived, to Elliot Lake — a distance of about 270 km. Although housing in Elliot Lake was springing up quickly, it was still difficult to come by.

The time finally came when we moved from beautiful downtown Kirkland Lake to a house at 242 Mississauga St. in Elliot Lake. The move was a much-Appreciated new beginning, in a new house in a new town.

The following year, my dad bought a 1960 Pontiac to go with the new house. I wasn’t fond of the car at first, but I found myself liking it more and more as time went by. In the end, I liked it so much that I traded in my own 1956 Chevrolet for a Pontiac of the same model and year as my dad’s. Since I was of the younger generation, my car had to be a little fancier than my dad’s — mine had a V-8 engine and an automatic transmission. When it came to parking our cars in the narrow driveway, my dad’s Pontiac always ended up closest to the house. Considering that I was home less often than my father, my white-And-Turquoise bomb always brought up the rear.

In time, the mines in Elliot Lake started to close. In 1963, my wife and I (and my Pontiac) followed my father to Chibougamau, Que. There, in 1965, I parted with the car, selling it to a guy named Vladis Kukoraitis, a co-worker of mine at Patino Mining’s Copper Rand mine.

The following year, my wife, our two children and I travelled back to Elliot Lake to visit with my wife’s parents, who still lived there. While touring the city streets, we drove by 242 Mississauga St. and I could not believe what I saw.

There, parked in the same place I had parked it so many times myself, was my old car. My wife mentioned that that particular model wasn’t the only turquoise-And-white Pontiac made by General Motors. I knew deep down, however, that this was my old car.

I couldn’t resist the temptation, so I stopped and knocked on the door of my old house, something I had never done before. The man who answered the door was surprised when I asked him where he bought his car. He looked me over for a bit before explaining that he bought it on Manitoulin Island from a man named Vladis Kukoraitis.

— The author, a mining consultant, resides in Beloeil, Que.