When I was assigned to the 19th Support Command at Camp Henry, Korea, I received a command sponsored assignment with deferred travel of my dependents. What that meant in normal civilian terms was that my wife and children would be allowed to travel to Korea to live with me, but they would have to wait to travel at a later date when housing became available. Since an apartment in the Sue Song Heights housing complex in Taegu had become available, the travel section at Camp Walker arranged for my dependents to fly over to Korea. Once they arrived in country and got settled in, my family and I traveled to Seoul and Chuncheon, and we participated in activities while we were visiting my wife’s relatives. However, what I didn’t do was talk about the return trip. Now seems like a perfect time to tell you the events that unfolded on that trip back to Taegu. It helps to know the type of vehicle that I had purchased when I first arrived in Taegu. A Korean doctor had a black 1982 Hyundai Ford Cortina, Mark V for sale for $2000 when I first arrived in country. When I looked at the car, it was in “like new” condition. The doctor had put plastic seat protectors over the interior upholstery and on the floorboards. The interior of the car was cherry. There was absolutely no body damage, no surface imperfections such as scratches, paint chips, or dents, and the paint finish looked like glass. After I had driven the car, I was in love with it. For those of you that don’t know what a Ford Cortina, Mark V is, it is basically a Ford introduced by Ford-Britain in 1979. The Korean Hyundai Motor Company manufactured and sold the Hyundai Ford Cortina, Mark V under license agreement with the Ford Motor Company. The doctor and I took the car and got it inspected so that I could get the license tags and the title transfer and the bill of sale. Once that was taken care of, the doctor sold me the car and I took possession. Now, the car did have one minor issue. It was not so much an issue with the car as it was an issue with my wife driving the car. You see, the car had a manual transmission. While that was perfectly acceptable to me, that would never do for my wife. Oh, hell no. On that first road trip to Seoul, I heard all about that manual transmission and how that car had to go. According to my wife, the car was a pile of junk even though it was in perfect shape. It didn’t matter how well it ran and how good it looked. Oh, hell no. Cuz she couldn’t drive it. And the most important point was that she couldn’t drive it! So, it had to go. Period, end of discussion. While we were in Seoul, I stopped at the PX vehicle concession and ordered a 1988 Ford Tempo for delivery to Taegu. The car would take about a month to six weeks to arrive. That made my wife very happy. No matter how good the Hyundai Ford Cortina Mark V was, it would never make her happy, especially after the incident with the shattered windshield. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t drive it. I didn’t attempt to put up a fight. I understood that she had to have her mobility and her freedom. But one sure fire advantage that the Hyundai Ford Cortina Mark V had over any American car that didn’t become apparent until the trip back to Taegu from Seoul. It was early evening on a Sunday evening, and we were zipping right along on the expressway headed to Taegu. I was not exactly paying any attention to the speed limit because the Korean National Police (KNP) usually do not bother to pull over and write citations for U. S. military personnel. That’s usually because of something to do with the Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA), but I am not entirely sure what. Anyway, that’s usually what happens. However, that particular evening, as I was zipping down the expressway, oncoming traffic was flashing their lights at me like crazy. Now, in the states that generally meant that there was a bear trap ahead. Either that or there was some serious road congestion ahead. At which time, most enterprising travelers such as myself would jump on the citizens band radio and break 19 for anybody with their ears on going in the opposite direction to give me an air pollution status report. If the roads were clean and green behind them, I could rest easy. However, here I did not have the luxury of a citizens band radio. Plus, I thought I didn’t need to worry. But I forgot one teeny tiny little detail. I forgot that I was driving a Korean car. To that KNP donut patrol, I looked like just another typical rich lead-footed Korean with a fat wallet. What’s worse was that we didn’t even have any donuts to bribe the guy. Not that I’m even sure that donuts would’ve worked. I’m not sure that the KNP ate donuts. For all I knew, they probably ate Lotte Choco Pies. For those of you that don’t know, a Choco Pie is the same thing as a moon pie. A moon pie is basically two graham crackers with a marshmallow filling all covered in chocolate. The Choco Pies are hella good. So, it is well within the realm of reason that the donut patrol in Korea would substitute donuts for Choco Pies. After all, blowing a whistle and writing tickets all day has got to be one helluva hard job. A guy could work up one helluva appetite doing that. Alas, one look at my kids’ faces told me everything I needed to know. We didn’t have any Choco Pies left to bribe the KNP with. We were screwed. Damn. Damn. Damn. We were up that proverbial Creek in a leaky canoe with no paddle. Shit. Shit. Shit. Well, what could I do? Not a damn thing. So, I pulled over and waited for the donut patrol to come over and cuss me out in Korean. After which I could play stupid and pretend I didn’t understand. Cuz of course, I didn’t understand. After all, I was a dumb American. A dumb lead-footed American. When the KNP approached my car and noticed that I was American, I could tell he was pissed off. His face was nine shades of red and glowing. It was probably hot to the touch as well. I could see little waves of heat coming off of the skin. So, I looked at him and said, “What?!?” The KNP shook his head and sighed noticeably while cursing and calling me all sorts of deleted expletives, then he waved me on. Guess what? I didn’t get a ticket. That was the one hidden advantage of an American driving a Korean car. A get out of jail free card. I’m pretty damn sure that would never happen with an American car, and I would never attempt to prove it, either. Cuz I’m pretty sure that such an attempt would just be another exercise in futility.
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