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Monday, September 29, 2008

Going Continental

I may not have mentioned my intention to move to France. Some may have guessed, after I mentioned "driving a lot in Europe" while considering my next purchase, that I may not be long for the UK. Well I can now inform you my specific intended destination is the south of France, somewhere between Nîmes and Perpignan. I'm not sure where yet.

And at this rate, the Lotus and the Fiat will be going with me. Actually, I never really intended to get rid of the Fiat, though transporting it to the south of France could be, um, time consuming. The Lotus, however, is not selling. It seems a global banking crisis is not the best time to try and sell a luxury item. Who'd have thunk it??

Ironically, I think I'll have a better chance of selling it in the Côtes d'Azur than I do in the UK. This is a millionaire's playground, where £10,000 is an evening's bar bill and Jaguar XJ-S convertibles go for £25,000, even though they struggle to reach a third of that value back in Blighty.

I was contemplating this when it dawned upon the French are probably as big in the classic cars scene as the British. It is they, after all, who host the most prestigious classics race in the world, the Le Mans Classic. And when the classic sportscars tour came to Silverstone this month (I got complimentary tickets from a nice chap called Guillaume, who is a classic sportscars organiser from Paris) the pitlane was awash with French accents. Far more French folk than British, even here in Silverstone. In fact, since my car has been for sale, two thirds of the serious approaches have been from French people.

If I were going to move anywhere in Europe, I can't think of a better fit for the classics enthusiast than France.

The Italians love cars, but can't be bothered with old ones (with a few notable exceptions). The Germans love efficiency, so that's that really. The Spanish are indifferent. The Swiss government positively hates cars, and while the Swiss themselves drive around in some of the most expensive cars in the world, the only Swiss person I know who is fortunate (and rich and half English) enough to have a stable of vintage sportscars only bothers to drive them when he's going to France for a few days. The Dutch are up there and enjoy their motorsport, but the French beat all comers hands down when it comes to passion and enthusiasm for classic cars.

I actually look forward to driving the Lotus on French roads for a few months. We're aiming to move in spring 2009 so, savings permitting, I may well be flinging the Lotus around some French country lanes in the spring sunshine.

That would be nice.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

The Originals

I like cars, old cars! And I've delved into some interesting types, styles and eras. Heck, I'm sure on a kick about early dry-lakes and street roadsters lately, as well as GM full sizes from the golden years of '60, '61 and '62. But these wonderful moves still take their place when my mind reverts to it's original beliefs about cars. The Originals. Original to me. Passed on by dad. And golly molly, very good lookin'!

I mean the GM A-bodies from the early part of the "kings of the road." You know, the "M" word: musclecars (which isn't exactly my favorite word). I hate to admit, but I am very opinionated here: these are the finest examples of what I consider the best automobiles ever made. This section of favorites starts in 1964 and ends in '65.

My picks are, again, very opinionated . Hopefully no one takes offense, but the cars shown on the beautiful 1965 May cover of Car Life magazine (above) are the all-timers, the great ones- with exception of the '65 Coronet. Mopar fans, I apologize. I don't hate the Coronet in the above pick, but it doesn't make The Originals. Not even close. Yes, I admit it is probably faster than all three of the others. But my list of ultimates only includes the other three "supercars"on that cool old magazine cover.

And there are others that don't quite make the list. No Mustangs, no Camaros, and not even the first Firebirds. And the venerable Road Runner doesn't get on the list. No 'Cudas, no Chargers, no chopped Mercs, no hot rods or their many imitations. People, I don't even allow the '54 Bel Air or fastback early GM's like '49 Pontiacs and Cadillacs.

Ferrari and Lamborghini are not contesters, and Bentley or Rolls don't quite measure up. (Yes, even old ones, and obviously the new ones!) I hate to say it, but Porsche doesn't even make the list (although I still secretly desire a pre-'68 911 or 912, maybe even a 356..). And sorry for this narrow-minded judgment I'm about to relate, but Porsche broke old and esteemed traditions when they released an SUV. Porsche SUV!? That's sacrilegious!

Guys and gals, don't hate me...but Corvettes aren't included. I do actually think the Blue Flame Six babies of Corvette's first yearlings are beautiful. I also completely adore a 1960 Ventura, the coolest '60 full size car ever made. I like the beauty and mystery of rare cars like the '62 bubble top 409 Bel Air. I also dig '67 Chevelles in total stock trim. But these above mentioned don't get the list either.

People, I know I am guilty of a simple-minded American old car mentality. And my trumped-up claims of car knowledge are not only biased, they're probably weak sauce! But the blame lays in the old car gene I received at birth. And it suits me just fine; heck, even naturally. I didn't simply learn to live with it, I ate it for dinner!

There's many automobiles I love, but even most of them don't make the list.

Nope, just these, The Originals:

  1. 1965 Pontiac Lemans/GTO Either one, they're the same thing. Converts and hardtops.
  2. 1965 Olds Cutlass/442. Again, same thing, but boy there's something about a real '65 442.
  3. 1965 Skylark /Gran Sport Again, same thing! But there is something about the GS in particular...
  4. 1964 Pontiac Lemans/GTO 'Nuff said.
  5. 1964 Olds 442

Now, one of the reasons I became so sentimental about The Originals is because I had to work on my clunker 442. It is a project car that patiently awaits it's turn for restoration, but I run it every month or so to keep things oiled and seals from cracking. Suddenly it wouldn't start, so I busted it out on Saturday and massaged it back to life. And boy this clunker got me remembering... I walked in to put my tools away and saw the '27 T roadster, my buggy lakes-style car. It looked cool as ever, but for once I consciously remembered what The Original favorites are!

Below the picture of my orphan Olds shows some of the good, and not so good. But it's a cool clunker! It used to have a sunroof chopped into the top, but thankfully came with an entire roof cut from a Cutlass. I replaced the roof when I first got the car. Please don't ask why there are Dodge turn signals on this car. And no, it will not sport the 15" Chevy rally wheels when it is done. Lucerne Mist, correct steel wheels, Olds dog dishes and red line bias-ply's are what it will get. Just like Lansing made her in the first place.



Stop laughing, the above-pictured car really is one of the best...no really...! And if you think I'm a redneck, go see my little brother. He has two documented 4V- code '65 442's. One hardtop and one convertible. And if you're weird like me, you'll be excited to unearth such rare classics. These are The Originals. I've known it since I was a little peanut: it's an actual passed-on gene characteristic of the slightly more common "old car" gene. And I got my old car gene from Dad, of course.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Attempts Successful...Kind Of

Having been electrocuted and all the extras that came with it has been, in summary, exhaustion. Even though the whole list of effects from such an interestingly extreme injury is about ninety feet long, exhaustion seems the biggest reminder now. The others are bad enough they don't deserve attention. But man alive I get tired! I mean tired!

Today I started the legendary Saturday as close to normal as I have since getting zapped. I put on my work pants, my dirty shoes and a Clydeco shirt, and headed out the door toward the fit and deserving pastime of Saturday. I naturally accessed the situation inside my drafty garage, realizing that another test drive was in order for the '27 Model T. I also justified such a move because the little car shop was a mess, and I must move cars in order to properly clean where they live!

So the job began. I started first by putting tools away. Everything I found appeared like a surprise- I honestly don't remember leaving my electrical testers and wires out, or my welding helmet on a rafter. And I didn't remember buying a generic wiring harness for the '27 which I found in its box. I had to look at it, and then I remembered. I thought, "Oh yeah, I was going to start wiring that little buggy, I remember why I bought this harness now." Weird feelings. It's like I lost contact with life for a century, and finally the memories are coming back.

And then the job progressed! And the time came to sweep the floor! And I saw the little T roadster, and felt he needed to come out in order to do a good sweeping! So I hooked him up to 12-volt negative-grounded DC voltage and mechanically pumped carbureted gasoline, and pulled that hot rod out.

I drove my hot rod, the little buggy, out of the shop and into the front yard. My neighbor's young boy called to me as he saw the car through his front screen door, and proceeded to tell how he made a goal in his little soccer game today. The funny kid then asked me what I was doing with "the buggy car." It caused an immediate grin from me. Another memory came back- this little boy originally called my '27 a "buggy car" the first time he saw it. HE came up with that- I didn't teach it to him. And my smiles kept coming. He's absolutely right-he shows the purest opinion and observance. How come adults can't tell the difference between a "rat rod" and a little buggy car? Or a real classic car verses a tricked out monster machine? Like I said, he's right. It is a buggy car. It's my beetle-bug car. And it's supposed to be traditional.

After these small moments I took a quick seat on one of my roller stools (covered in dust), in the car shop. And this "quick" break turned into a long break. I was completely exhausted. I looked at my old walls, at the Kendall Oil sign, the old ads and parts I stick all over the place for decoration. I looked at my cracked concrete floors and the shifters hanging on the wall. I got up, put away a few more tools, and sat back down again. I just sat and rested, again totally exhausted. And I noticed how drained I really was. Looking outside at my tarp-covered collection of old cars in various states of disrepair, I remembered what the little neighbor kid said. That '27 Model T is a buggy car. It's my beetle-bug. And I continued to sit, just sit there, enjoying that little boy's statement.