Recently I've been thinking about my dad. He was RCMP, joined in 1963 at the ripe age of 18. Yes, this means he spent the 60's busting hippies, but there wasn't too many in his early postings waaaay up north in the NWT. Got to be personaly detail for PE Trudeau once and I have a lovely picture of PET in his long-johns on a slide somewhere ;)

It was a good way to grow up, in small towns in Nova Scotia, Canada I think. We moved every 4 years, but we thought that was normal anyway as kids. What I remember most was the police cars (note: these are the best pics I could find with google-fu, not the actual cars)

I really miss the old cars. To me, THIS is what pops into my head when someone says police car. Big square sedans with giant lights on top (Couldn't find a pic of my favourite lights though: Gumballs!), black wheels and dog-dishes, Royal blue and white doors. This says authority to me, not some pasty white lozenge thing with stripes. When these were around my dad was still a Constable, working his way up through promotions in the 80's until -finally- he got his Sargent bars and a command in Barrington Passage, NS.

My father was a good Sargent, so he soon got promoted again to Staff Sargent and we again moved to a bigger detachment posting in Digby, NS in the early 90's. The patrol cars were still Blues, but they were starting to get the new round Caprices.


Still had a few of the old square cars though. I remember one really well, a Crown Vic. Because he was the commander, he took it home at night though so someone on patrol wasn't stuck with it. Ol' Buella, as the officers called it, was on her last legs, but they weren't getting replacements until the new white cars started rolling out in NS.

It smoked, it back-fired, and sometimes it wouldn't start. It was still cool, but my dad cursed that thing. He'd much rather have taken home the Bush truck:


Yeah, I dug that! My brother and I were heavy into Scouts at the time, so he borrowed it when we went out in the woods to truck us around. We had a Scout camp on a lake, and he'd park the 'Burban by the dock and let us whoop-whoop the siren, use the PA and flast the lights at night during the camp-fires. I seriously doubt there was a cooler looking scout troop in transport anywhere, with our Big RCMP Suburban, plus the other leaders in an Old IH Scout, a '79 Ford 1-ton and ginormous '93 Dodge Power Wagon with the Cummins.

Anyway, back to the cars. Soon, the white cars rolled in:


These were ok, I guess. My dad was not a fan of the new paint jobs either, but by this time had was finally due his own personal unmarked Car:

Ignore the advertising, but this is the exact same car as he had. Colour, Wheels, all. That things would motor too. He had received a promotion to Internal Affairs by this time and we moved to Truro, NS. I would sometimes go with my dad on his Sunday "rounds" where he went and visited the outlying detachments to get reports. Sometimes on back roads he'd goose the car and get it loose around a corner, and entry ramps to the 102 were like launch pads. He wasn't speeding, but he didn't waste any time getting there! Rode beautifully too, just floated, but didn't feel out of control.