Beginnings

Beginnings

If you are looking for a blog about the latest news from the auto industry or what it's like to drive the hottest new Belchfire 8...this is not that. This blog is simply a collection of my own experience with cars, with an emphasis on the sports cars I've owned, the races I've participated in, and the wonderful people I've met, many of whom became lifelong friends.

I have been lucky enough, as someone without “big bucks” to spend, to enjoy some very special machinery, and many experiences that are, for most enthusiasts, out of reach dreams. My goal in writing some of my recollections is just to wander through them as they come to mind, with the original impetus being conversations I've had with friends when an ad on a car on Bring A Trailer or some magazine has triggered them.

So...here I go.

I guess, in one sense, you could “blame” my lifelong interest (obsession?) with cars on my dad. While not intimately involved in the mechanical doings of autos he was nonetheless interested enough to sometimes own and drive some pretty unusual machinery in mid-20^th century America.

While most of our family transport was American iron, at least some of that was at the sharper end of the offerings of the time. Though we could not afford new cars, there often seemed to be a year or two old Cadillac or Buick in the drive...and then there were the more exotic Europeans. I recall rather vividly a Hillman Minx convertible and a Simca Aronde, and though time might be playing tricks on me, seem also to think we had a Renault Dauphine at some point. Later, after I was granted my first sports car...which dad could hardly refuse since I was going to make the payments on it...he must have been at least somewhat impressed with it as Mom wound up with an Austin America.

Come to think of it, I believe that was actually a new car. It would have been ok if not for the painfully slow acceleration with the automatic transmission that was marginal for the car's power even in flat South Florida. As I look back I'm surprised that dad was able to recognize how much practical space was crammed into this oversized Mini. The transverse engine and front wheel drive really provided a lot of cabin room, though I can't really comment on the rear seats.

I only drove it a couple of times and we did not have it very long. Like most imports of the day the Austin required more “fussy” upkeep than most Americans were willing to commit, and it was in the shop often.

While I think the Austin came after the Corvairs (yes, plural), I'm not really sure. By the early 1960s I had lost interest in American cars, even though I had, at one point, every high school senior's dream...a 57 Bel Aire convertible. A story for another time. I don't even recall why I got attracted to the sports car magazines of the day, but quickly became caught up in the mystique of high revving, excellent handling European two passenger rides including some pretty exotic names like Ferrari and Aston Martin. So devouring “Road and Track” and “Car and Driver” every month became very much part of my routine by the time I was a freshman in college.

But dad's experience with foreign cars had been less than stellar, so he refused to financially support the idea of yet another finicky twiddling little puddle jumper. The Simca seemed to break down every 30 miles. The Hillman was fun since the top could be rolled back to uncover only the front seats, leaving the back under cover, or be put all the way down. It was not as unreliable as the Simca, a name dad was attracted to as it was very close to the Hebrew word for joy...which it was not.

Simca Aronde

While dad liked cars, his limited budget only allowed for used models which were likely not the top representatives of the selection in terms of prior care. Thus they did not last long before needing more work than was cost justified, or, in at least one case for me, literally self-destructing in a blaze of glory. So after a short succession of these I was granted a car which was as close to a Euro-sports car as he would allow...a 1961 Corvair Monza.

Dad liked the car so much he then bought two 1960 sedans...a green one for himself and a red one for mom. Pretty sexy. Mine was a three speed floor shift, while both of theirs were automatics with that weird shift selector poking out of the dash.

But I guess before I launch into experiences with what I called the “Gold Bug” I ought to back up and at least provide a summary of how I got to that point.