I got involved with Hudsons by accident. In the spring of 1974, a friend of a friend showed me a 1939 Hudson that needed rescuing from the woods. It was straight, but the rear window had fallen in, ruining the interior, and the engine had been sitting without spark plugs. However, the crankshaft turned and the floor was sound. $150 later it was mine.
I had bought myself a 1939 Hudson Six, Model 92, a mid-priced sedan. I set out to restore it, and commenced to take the body off. A couple of years later I realized it would be a long time before I could drive it, so we bought Angus, our 1925 Hudson Brougham, in order to have an operable old car. Two decades later all I had of the ’39 was a restored chassis, primed fenders, an engine still apart and a body that needed everything. I decided to sell it. That part was fairly easy,considering that it was a basket case. It had to be partially reassembled to move to its new home, and Victor, the new owner, and my son Edward helped get it ready to travel. Once loaded we made an easy trip to East Haven, about 50 miles to the west.
Victor told me he was going to restore the car, and drive over so I could see it. “Sure,” I thought. “He won’t have much more luck than I did.” O me of little faith! One evening three summers later, Jill and I had gone to a movie. When we returned, our daughter Harriet said “You had a visitor. He said he was sorry to miss you.”
“Who?” I asked. “Victor,” she replied, “and the Hudson.” Fortunately she had her camera at the ready. Victor hadn’t restored it exactly, but the car was operable. It was also loaded to the gunwales, with flags flying. He had sold his house in East Haven, loaded all his earthly belongings into the car and a trailer, put his boat on the roof and scooped up his cat. They were all headed to New Mexico. I hope they made it.
