On Mon, 10 Mar 1997 RFeibusch@aol.com wrote:
> with, my mother informs me that I showed a major
> interest in cars from about the time I began to talk.
> My first three words were mama, dad, and Buick!
> Being that this was going on in the late Forties, might
> explain why my favorite cars come from the 1938-1954
<snip>
> How about the rest of you out there? Why do you like British cars? See you
> on the Funway!
> Rick Feibusch
I became interested in cars in utero. No, just kidding, but early. When
I was 4 or 5, my uncles and fathers say I could identify many cars by
the shape and location of their tail lights at night.
I think I was impressed by lbc's because they were the first foreign cars
I became aware of. The first I ever remember seeing was an early Jaguar
Sedan. I spent about an hour circling it (luckily, it was parked, so this
was fairly safe), just taking it all in. Big wire wheels with funny h ubs.
Huge headlights. Wonder what "1.5 Litre" means? Sounds powerful (little
did I know).
There weren't very many lbcs in St. Louis, but there were even fewer
non-british foreign cars. One that made an extraordinary impression was
an early post war Alfa 6C-2500 with a custom roadster body by Pinin
Farina. What an incredible car! (When last I saw the poor thing, it had
been converted to LHD and a Chevy V8 engine.) But Alfas might as well have
been from Mars; british cars were foreign without being impossibly
foreign. I could imagine owning one. I lobbied hard for my father to buy
a Humber Hawk. We took a test drive, but he wimped out and bought another
Plymouth.
An MG and Jaguar dealer was at the outer limit of my daily excursions; I
haunted the place. Foreign car dealerships in those days were a strange
mix of business and clubhouse. Once in a while, I got to ride in a new
MG-TD. They were so wonderously different, so completely unlike my
father's Plymouths. I lovingly constructed a 1/12 scale model of an XK120
from plans in Mechanix Illustrated and measurements of the showroom cars.
It was pretty good, for a 13 year old, and the salesmen at the Jag dealer
were impressed. I, unfortunately, was disappointed in it and I burned it
in a ceremonial fire in the back yard. An early sign of creeping
perfectionism, I think.
A friend of my cousin opened a dealership to handle everything that wasn't
already spoken for. My cousin owned a tiny piece of the action, and I got
to hang out there some. They had Porsches, the first VW in St. Louis, a
Jowett Jupiter (my cousin ended up with that, so I reckon I am one of the
few listers who has ridden in a JJ), Sunbeam Talbots, and I don't remember
what all. The principal owner basically imported one or two of
everything, and waited to see what sold. I remember the VW had no license
plate bracket; I asked him how he would attach the plate, and his response
was, "Doesn't matter, nobody's going to buy it anyway." People surprised
him by buying them, and eventually he changed his mind and became the
midwest VW distributor. My cousin, who still thought VWs would never
sell, turned down the chance to be a part of the new venture.
About driving age, I discovered women, and as a starving student I had to
choose between them and cars. I've gone back and forth, which probably
indicates some cycling of testosterone level. But the general trend of
testosterone with age is downward, and I now figure there is room in my
life for both a woman and cars, provided the woman likes cars. I'm
partial to british cars, but I still cast sidelong glances at Alfas.
British cars combine straightforward mechanical bits with style and
performance. I don't relate well to cars that require super high priced
professional attention to keep going; a friend lent me his Porsche for a
short drive last summer, and all I could think of was how a missed shift
could take care of my next two month's salary. I drove it slowly, and
didn't have much fun.
Ray Gibbons Dept. of Molecular Physiology & Biophysics
Univ. of Vermont College of Medicine, Burlington, VT
gibbons@northpole.med.uvm.edu (802) 656-8910
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