I recently joined my friend Paul on a road trip to deliver what some might charitably characterize as collectible automobiles. I wouldn’t be that generous. In fact, if we accomplished nothing else I believe we proved the old adage that one man’s treasure is another man’s trash.
The first leg of the trip, which we undertook after a leisurely breakfast to allow morning rush hour traffic to abate, was to deliver a 1938 Citroen to Falls Church, VA. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against Citroens per se. It’s just that I have some doubts that this particular car in anyway justified the effort that had been and would be expended in its behalf. Whatever; the trip to Falls Church was not as onerous as I had thought it might be. Of course, Paul was driving and TomTom was navigating, all I had to do was enjoy the ride. But Falls Church is inside the Beltway and, since retiring, I rigorously resist any foray inside.
We reached our destination in a safe and timely fashion but, upon arrival, found the driveway partially blocked (if it was an artery my Cardiologist would classify the obstruction as about 60%). Of course, given the nature of the receiving gentleman’s collection, the offending vehicles (a 1950 Citroen and a 1938 BMW or 1954 EMW??) were immobile. There was almost enough room between the cars, a ditch and the fence to finagle our cargo into the backyard.
What followed was four and a half hours of some of the finest Shade Tree Engineering in recent history. We not only got the non-rolling Citroen into the backyard with no significant additional damage, we got the subject of the second leg of our journey out of the collapsed shed it had been calling home, around the previously mentioned obstructions and onto Paul’s trailer. And didn’t put a scratch on it (not that you could tell). That diamond-in-the-rough is a 1950 Lancia Aurelia which the owner claims is the only hand-built, aluminum bodied example in the Western Hemisphere.
The Lancia’s destination was a high-end foreign car repair facility in the wilds of Loudoun County and we got it there with little or no drama. That wasn’t the case when the Horse’s Patootie who runs the place took exception to our treatment of what he apparently agreed was a “six figure” classic. He didn’t like the way the car had been tied down. I didn’t participate in the discussion between Paul and this Twit but the bottom line was he would not help unload the POJ. Or load the car we were supposed to pick-up there.
Well, gravity did lend us a hand getting the non-roller off the trailer and the by now familiar “drag it on with a rope” technique helped us load a second Lancia. This other Lancia is apparently not the “find” the first one was but it was closer to salvageable than the first (in my humble and untrained opinion). We were to deliver the second Lancia to Cumberland, MD but, by the time we got it loaded, it was too late to start that trip.
So, next morning, Paul and I headed out for Cumberland, made the trip in fine fashion and delivered the car to a very nice man who was a lot of help. He even lent us his son to navigate the canyons of downtown Cumberland. By then it was lunch time and I had a hankering for some chili dogs from Curtis Famous Weiners. I just didn’t know how to get there.
Rewind a bit. As we drove west thru Hagerstown we encountered the nearly 2000 motorcycles traveling east, from the Flight 93 Memorial in Shanksville, PA to the 9/11 Memorial at the Pentagon. The caravan of bikes & bikers stretched between exit 28 and milepost 20 (eight solid miles of rolling thunder)! Fortunately we and they were traveling in opposite directions.
Dead-heading (the trailer was empty) back from Cumberland, Paul agreed to pick-up some 16 footers at Home Depot and take them to my house. Boards that long are tough to haul in my truck with its 6 foot bed. He dropped me and my boards off and, I hope had a chance to unwind. The man is a paragon of patience and awash in the milk of human kindness; he was up at 4 the next morning to haul a ‘70 ‘Cuda for a guy that just had it shipped in from Hawaii.
Besides the essential truths that there’s no accounting for taste, and that one man’s treasure is another man’s trash, I learned several other valuable lessons on my road trip(s) with Paul. I learned that Car Guys (and all the folks I encountered on this trip were real Car Guys) are very diverse in their likes and interests. It’s not all Hot Rods, or Muscle Cars, or whatever. Some Car Guys even like rare and obscure Italian jobs whose beauty must lie in the eye of the beholder.
In the last few weeks I’ve seen several cars I thought I just had to have, and on reflection realized I don’t have to have. Thanks to my road trip with Paul I can scratch Lancia and Citroen off my wish list!
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Confessions of a Drugstore Car Guy
The older I get the more change (not nickels, dimes & quarters) eats up my mental resources. I notice when things are different a lot more than I used to. I’ve noticed, for instance, that a bunch of different new cars look remarkably alike; these days you can spend Hyundai money to get a car that looks just like a BMW. But of course even Hyundai money today is more than house, car, and cabin by the lake money was when I was a kid!
“Change is such hard work.” Billy Crystal
“Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine.” Robert C. Gallagher
“If you're in a bad situation, don't worry, it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry, it'll change.” John A. Simone, Sr.
“There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction” Winston Churchill
One of the most noticeable things that has changed since I was a kid is how much more is involved in doing really simple things. Back in the day, at age 6 to 16, I ran out of the house in a pair of short pants, jumped on my bike, and pedaled at a break-neck pace to wherever. Street, sidewalk, neighbor’s yard, vacant lot, or city park; it was all the same. Pick-up a pack of cigarettes for Uncle Bob (if I had an Uncle Bob and he wanted me to get him some cigarettes) or get a soda at the Drug Store. Today, I’d have to put on a helmet, knee and elbow pads, stay on the bike path, wear a shirt and shoes if I wanted to go into the Drug Store, and have a valid I.D. to buy the cigarettes.
Really, the only part of that scenario that bothers me is the helmet; I didn’t need one when I crashed into the curb on Crawford Street (I’d have broken my arm anyway), my daughter didn’t need one the three or four times she got stitches in her face from crashing her trike, my brother Darrell didn’t need one when he dropped a cinder block on my other brother Darrell’s head (OK, I’ll admit other brother Darrell probably needed one). We were tough, healed quickly; casts and stitches were just part of growing up! Don’t get me started on child safety seats; we did just fine with mom or dad’s arm flung out to catch us as we sailed by.
That’s something else that’s changed; it’s damn near impossible to catch a flying kid during a panic stop when you’re talking on the cell phone, or texting, and sucking on a latté. That reminds me; what are people talking about during their incessant cell phone calls and constant texting? I suppose I wouldn’t have to ask if I was thirty years younger (or had someone to talk to). Speaking of latté, I almost burst into tears the other day; on TV I saw someone drinking a Barq’s grape soda out of a bottle. Do you realize those big old glass bottles only held about half what one of the plastic bottles do today (and cost a tenth as much!).
When I was young I believed everything that was new to me was new. I remember thinking the first time I had a Frito that it was a great new product. That would have been in the fifties and Fritos had been around since the thirties, just not around me. I hear young, and not so young, people talking about things like they were just out of the box, off the boat, whatever. A good rule I’ve learned is to treat everything like you’ve known all about it forever; never let on that you’re experiencing something new (an updated version of the “never let ‘em see you sweat” rule).
According to THE DECADES PROJECT, by 1956, there were 13 million teenagers in the country (that’s us Baby Boomers); a new generation breaking away from their parents and defining itself in new ways. They were more self-sufficient than their parents, did not remember the Depression or WWII, and had no inclination to save money. As the new middle class emerged in America it created a whole new group of consumers: the young. The teens had an average weekly income of $10.55, about the same as a whole family’s disposable income 15 years before. Their purchases leaned towards the music-related industry, anything from records to radios. These teenagers affected the nation as well? They were the beginning of the youth culture, the first young people to really have an impact on the nation as a whole.
I’m pretty sure THE DECADES PROJECT is part of that whole “younger generation trying to blame everything on us” conspiracy. But heck, even if it is all our fault, we gave them cell phones, I-pods, and Starbucks. Nobody’s ever satisfied, and that’s not changed!
“Change is such hard work.” Billy Crystal
“Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine.” Robert C. Gallagher
“If you're in a bad situation, don't worry, it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry, it'll change.” John A. Simone, Sr.
“There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction” Winston Churchill
One of the most noticeable things that has changed since I was a kid is how much more is involved in doing really simple things. Back in the day, at age 6 to 16, I ran out of the house in a pair of short pants, jumped on my bike, and pedaled at a break-neck pace to wherever. Street, sidewalk, neighbor’s yard, vacant lot, or city park; it was all the same. Pick-up a pack of cigarettes for Uncle Bob (if I had an Uncle Bob and he wanted me to get him some cigarettes) or get a soda at the Drug Store. Today, I’d have to put on a helmet, knee and elbow pads, stay on the bike path, wear a shirt and shoes if I wanted to go into the Drug Store, and have a valid I.D. to buy the cigarettes.
Really, the only part of that scenario that bothers me is the helmet; I didn’t need one when I crashed into the curb on Crawford Street (I’d have broken my arm anyway), my daughter didn’t need one the three or four times she got stitches in her face from crashing her trike, my brother Darrell didn’t need one when he dropped a cinder block on my other brother Darrell’s head (OK, I’ll admit other brother Darrell probably needed one). We were tough, healed quickly; casts and stitches were just part of growing up! Don’t get me started on child safety seats; we did just fine with mom or dad’s arm flung out to catch us as we sailed by.
That’s something else that’s changed; it’s damn near impossible to catch a flying kid during a panic stop when you’re talking on the cell phone, or texting, and sucking on a latté. That reminds me; what are people talking about during their incessant cell phone calls and constant texting? I suppose I wouldn’t have to ask if I was thirty years younger (or had someone to talk to). Speaking of latté, I almost burst into tears the other day; on TV I saw someone drinking a Barq’s grape soda out of a bottle. Do you realize those big old glass bottles only held about half what one of the plastic bottles do today (and cost a tenth as much!).
When I was young I believed everything that was new to me was new. I remember thinking the first time I had a Frito that it was a great new product. That would have been in the fifties and Fritos had been around since the thirties, just not around me. I hear young, and not so young, people talking about things like they were just out of the box, off the boat, whatever. A good rule I’ve learned is to treat everything like you’ve known all about it forever; never let on that you’re experiencing something new (an updated version of the “never let ‘em see you sweat” rule).
According to THE DECADES PROJECT, by 1956, there were 13 million teenagers in the country (that’s us Baby Boomers); a new generation breaking away from their parents and defining itself in new ways. They were more self-sufficient than their parents, did not remember the Depression or WWII, and had no inclination to save money. As the new middle class emerged in America it created a whole new group of consumers: the young. The teens had an average weekly income of $10.55, about the same as a whole family’s disposable income 15 years before. Their purchases leaned towards the music-related industry, anything from records to radios. These teenagers affected the nation as well? They were the beginning of the youth culture, the first young people to really have an impact on the nation as a whole.
I’m pretty sure THE DECADES PROJECT is part of that whole “younger generation trying to blame everything on us” conspiracy. But heck, even if it is all our fault, we gave them cell phones, I-pods, and Starbucks. Nobody’s ever satisfied, and that’s not changed!
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