CarPort

The response to last week’s snow feature has been remarkable – the topic clearly resonates with our visitors, and not a few of you are as tired of snow as I am. Jim Benjaminson reports that there’s still plenty of snow in North Dakota, where this Orient Buckboard was photographed about a hundred years ago on the streets of Milton. They didn’t have snow tires, so our inventive Dakotans wrapped some rope around the rear tires.

Maybe skittishness about snow is a New World thing. Joris Bergsma, our mentor who runs the inspirational PreWarCar.com, says the Dutch don’t have problems driving their old cars in snow. He sent this pic of Bas Jansen exercising his Austin Seven special in the recent snowfalls in The Netherlands. Bas, with his father Gerrit, runs Carrosserie Bouw Jansen (not to be confused with Jensen Motors, the British coachbuilders who bodied many well-known 1950s-70s cars). Bas and his father built the anatomically-correct aluminum body for this special.

Europeans seem to revel in winter driving. Who else would organize a February rally for historic cars, the Neige et Glace, held annually in France.

Mother Nature did not take kindly to my last week’s comments. Hardly had I posted to the CarPort than she sent another helping of wet snow to Connecticut. It’s melting now, though. Soon we’ll be able to start our spring plowing.

The CarPort emanates from southern Connecticut, where winters are typically mild and snow melts between storms. This year, however, we’ve been plagued with weeks of every-day snow, and many of us are suffering from cabin fever. Steve McManus reports that even Kentucky has been snowbound. His family and his ’31 Hudson, seen here, long for warm weather so they can go touring.

This causes me to wonder about old cars and snow. When our old cars were new we didn’t hesitate to drive them in snow. We had no choice, if we wanted to go anywhere. It snowed plenty in Worcester, Massachusetts, where I spent my college years. My 1957 Studebaker braved the weather without trouble. In New Jersey, where I was born, my parents kept their Model A outside, and when they needed to go out wielded the business end of a shovel.

The venerable Stanley Steamer could travel in snow. While researching my book The Stanley Steamer – America’s Legendary Steam Car, Stanley Museum archivist Jim Merrick and I discovered plenty of Stanleys braving the winter wilds. Even at the beginning of the 20th Century cars would go out in the snow, as did this American Berliet taking actresses Agnes Cain Brown and Lillian Hudson to New York’s Majestic Theater for “The Rose of Alhambra” in 1907 (thanks to Andy Watt and PreWarCar.com).

Why don’t we take old cars out in the snow? In two words, road salt. Snow is just crystallized water, and will wash off harmlessly. Salt, which melts snow and ice, also makes a nifty electrolyte, which eats metal. My Studebaker eventually died of it.

This past Sunday, Spring came to the northern hemisphere. Soon we’ll be able to take our old cars out for exercise. There’s only one complication. In New England, Spring is also known as “Mud Season.”

Some of these Stanley photos are from The Stanley Steamer – America’s Legendary Steam Car, recently awarded the prestigious Thomas McKean Memorial Cup by the Antique Automobile Club of America. The book, which has over 500 additional historic photos, can be ordered here.

If we were car breeders, we might describe this vehicle as out of Austin Seven by 1938 Ford. It’s neither British nor American, though, and it has nothing to do with Ford. It’s a 1940 Rosengart Supercinq, seen at Rétromobile last month in Paris. Lucien Rosengart was a French industrialist whose first car was a licensed version of the Austin Seven (check out the Austin Seven Owners Club). By the end of the thirties, he was building larger models like the front wheel drive Supertraction. The Supercinq was made in small numbers as war came to France.

Rétromobile, France’s premier old car show, returns every year to the Parc des Exhibitions at Paris’s Porte de Versailles. The 30th edition took place from 11th to 20th February 2005, centerpiece of which was a display of prototype automobiles from the 1930s and 40s. Among them, looking from the rear much like a ’35 Ford coupe, was the 1941 STELA (Service de la Traction Electrique Légère et Agricole). An electric vehicle built to counter wartime fuel shortages, it is the sole example built.

French engineer Jean Albert Grégoire was a pioneer of front wheel drive and a proponent of aluminum chassis. One of his designs was adopted by Hotchkiss as the Hotchkiss-Grégoire; another, more radical exercise was the SOCEMA (Société de Constructions et d’Equipements Méchaniques pour l’Aviation) Grégoire turbo coupe, powered by a gas turbine engine and claimed to be the world’s first.

The Mathis 666 (6 seats, 6 cylinders, 6 speeds) was shown at France’s 1948 motor show. Strikingly modern, even for the French, it was judged too radical for its times, when the nation was still recovering from wartime deprivation.

Retromobile exhibitors include vintage car dealers, auction houses like Bonhams and Christie’s (the latter staging a sale on Saturday), marque clubs, and sellers of parts and literature. Automobiles as diverse as the Lagonda Rapide and 1932 Nash 1070 abound. Think of Hershey indoors, moved upscale with a French accent.

A faithful Rétromobilist for the last four years, I was unable to make the trip in 2005. Roving correspondent Taylor Vinson was on hand, though, and we have him to thank for these photos and his impressions of the event.

In 1957, Ford introduced the Ranchero, in one stroke of genius inventing the car-based pickup and forcing Chevrolet into a crash program that resulted in the El Camino. So goes a version of conventional wisdom that is, unfortunately, completely wrong. Car-based pickups have a much longer history than that. Hudson had them in the 1940s, as did Studebaker in the 30s. In fact, the coupe utility or “ute” has been a staple of the Australian outback since 1934. This 1949 Ford makes one wonder if the Ranchero doesn’t have much deeper roots in Dearborn.

In fact it does, much farther back than 1949. In 1931 Ford sold a deluxe version of the Model A pickup that certainly qualifies. The original Ranchero had a short run, 1957 to 1959, but it returned in 1960 as a Falcon and last appeared in the intermediate Torino lineup in the 1970s.

I photographed the “pre-Ranchero” above at Hershey a few years ago. It was a nicely-finished conversion, apparently from a standard Tudor sedan. The rear window looks like it came from a Step-down Hudson. This idea seems to have appealed to several people, as Marian Dinwiddie discovered a “stepside” version at the Early Bird Swap Meet in Puyallup, Washington. Converted from a Custom Fordor sedan, it has a 1947-53 Advance Design Chevy box and fenders.

Where have all the car-pickups gone? Chevy held on the longest, the El Camino leaving production at the end of the 1988 model year. I suspect that we simply don’t need them any more. After all, for the last 25 years the best selling American vehicle has been a pickup, and even Cadillac now offers a crew cab.

This man looks like he’s staring down his automobile. Which one do you think will blink first? Actually, he’s working on the Airfoil headlights on his 1942 DeSoto.

Before World War II, DeSoto was very much Chrysler Corporation’s “idea car.” Innovative features were tried out on DeSoto, things like the handsome Miller-inspired grilles of the 1932 and 1933 models – though few of them ever made it into the Mopar mainstream. For 1942, DeSoto pulled out all the stops.

Most obvious from the outside were the Airfoil lights (“Out of Sight Except at Night”). The lights were concealed behind “eyelids,” which opened at the command of an under-dash lever that also illuminated the sealed-beam lamps. DeSoto was at the forefront of accessory merchandising, offering twelve items “bundled” into the Fifth Avenue Ensemble. In addition to the standard Airfoil lights, one got directional signals, a lighted hood ornament, Fluid Drive with a Simplimatic (semi-automatic) transmission, electric clock, eight-tube high fidelity radio with electric antenna, steamlined rear fender shields (skirts), a plastic steering wheel with built-in cigarette case, white wheel trim rings (phony whitewalls), pushbutton starter, cigar lighter, bumper bars (guards) and exhaust extension. Furthermore, if you didn’t want the whole Fifth Avenue routine you could order any combination of the accessories individually.

Little known is the fact that Chrysler was dabbling at air conditioning before the war. Some 1941 Chryslers were built with it, and the option was extended to DeSoto for 1942, but it’s uncertain whether, due to the war-shortened model year, any were built.

After the War, the stylish Suburban apart, the far-out ideas pretty much left DeSoto. One has to wonder whether the marque might have fared better in the 1950s had that innovative spirit been allowed to continue. Fortunately, DeSoto does not want for faithful followers, who are well looked after by the National DeSoto Club and Dave Duricy’s DeStinctive DeSotoland.

DeSoto’s Airfoil lights were not the first American production hidden headlights. Cord had introduced them on the 810 model in 1936, although their implementation fastened the lamp to the inside of the “lid” and rotated it into place. Operation was much more convoluted, too, as each lamp had to be cranked individually and then switched on. A number of prototype cars, both at Chrysler and at General Motors, used hidden lamps in the 1940s. CarPort visitors are invited to tell us what was the next American production car to use hidden headlamps. See our contact page for details – extra credit if you send some pix of that car, both wide open and eyes wide shut!

Packard station wagon? Did Packard build station wagons? Well, of course Packard built station wagons. Prior to World War II there were wood-bodied wagons in both the One-Ten and One-Twenty lines, and who could forget the stylish 1948 Station Sedan, though it was more of a half-timbered affair. In the twilight years, 1957 and 1958, there were also station wagons, though these were more Studebaker than Packard.

The car above notwithstanding, Packard Motor Car Company omitted any form of wagon from its 1951 to ’56 catalogs. Perhaps the company brass felt they didn’t need one. Packard’s new “low-to-the-road styling” for 1951 included copious luggage space in its sedan configuration, nearly 90 percent more commodious than that of the 1948-50 “Pregnant Elephant” models. If that wasn’t enough, the entry-level 200 series included a Business Coupe, basically a two door sedan with no back seat. When combined with the already-huge sedan trunk, the carrying capacity was mammoth. Apparently, it wasn’t needed either, as the Business Coupe was gone by the time the ’52s appeared.

But what of this unusual Packard wagon, part of The Auction at Hershey 2004? It’s striking, but the lines are more abrupt than you’d expect, either from the factory or one of the custom shops like Coachcraft or Bohman & Schwartz. Its workmanship wasn’t up to coachbuilder standards, either. At first I thought it was a cut-and-applique job on a 1951 Patrician sedan, but if so the rear door configuration has been significantly altered.

Packard is blessed with a populous partisanship. There are two major clubs, Packard Automobile Classics and Packards International, and two museums, the National Packard Museum and America’s Packard Museum. Does anyone know the history of this interesting wagon?

Wayne Graefen is a car journalist’s best friend. He travels widely, is always on the lookout for remarkable vehicles, and takes lots of pictures. This time he’s come up with the Continental drift.

These days Continental is synonymous with Lincoln, but when this Continental was built no one at Ford Motor Company had contemplated such a model. This is a 1933 Continental Flyer, built by the Continental Automobile Company, a division of Continental Motors. Continental? Didn’t they build engines, not cars? Well, yes. Through the 1920s Continental was the chief supplier of engines to manufacturers of so-called “assembled cars,” those built from parts supplied by outside companies (“outsourcing” is nothing new).

Continental’s Muskegon, Michigan, plant had been supplying engines for the DeVaux automobile, built in nearby Grand Rapids. But in 1932, when the DeVaux-Hall Motors Corporation failed, Continental took over its Michigan assets to settle unpaid bills for engines. Building the last few DeVauxs in the plant, Continental brought out their own car for 1933, in three models: an entry-level Beacon four-cylinder model, a Flyer (the type photographed by Wayne), and a top-of-the-line Ace. All cars, of course, used Continental’s famed Red Seal engines. 3,310 were built in 1933, and a further 953 Beacons were sold in 1934 before operations ceased. Continental Motors was acquired by Ryan Aeronautical Company (builder of Lindberg’s Spirit of St. Louis) in 1965, which in turn was purchased by Teledyne in 1969. Today Teledyne Continental Motors builds piston and turbine engines for light aircraft.

Wayne snapped this Flyer coupe at a Veteran Motor Car Club of America meet at Fredericksburg, Texas, in July 2003. A bit down at the heels, it was solid and complete. It sold quickly.

You’ve heard the stories – the Duesenberg that sold for $300 in 1952, the Rolls-Royce limo that once changed hands for $150. Yes, there was a time when even the automobiles now considered Full Classics™ by the Classic Car Club of America were just old cars – cheap old cars at that. Those days will never come again, you say. Think again. The good old days could be now. Consider this 1985 Chrysler Executive Limousine.

Chrysler Corporation has a long heritage of roomy people movers. From the 1930s there have been long-wheelbase cars in all lines, even, for a time, Plymouth. Jim Benjaminson, stalwart stanchion of the Plymouth Owners Club, owns this rare 1940 P10 Deluxe 7-passenger sedan, one of three known survivors of 1,179 built. At the top of the line were the Crown Imperials, like this 1941 model and this 1956 Forward Look example (thanks to Dave Duricy and The Imperialist). Sometimes they were just “ordinary” Chryslers, like this 1953 New Yorker eight-passenger sedan I snapped at Hershey in 2002. An original car, it was first owned by the Philadelphia Electric Company and used for executive transportation.

The Executive Limo is of a genre known as the “Little Limousines.” Based on the plebeian “K cars,” the Plymouth Reliant and Dodge Aires that were mainstays of Chrysler’s 1980s catalog, the Little Limos were modified by American Specialty Cars, contract constructor to the auto industry. Brainchildren of Chrysler’s Special Vehicle Projects executive Bob Marcks, they were introduced as 1983 models. Both an Executive Sedan and an Executive Limousine were built through 1984, after which just the Limo was continued. Power came from a normally-aspirated Mitsubishi-built 2.6 liter four, as used in most Chrysler minivans. For 1986, the final year, the 2.2 liter turbo four from Chrysler was substituted. Richard Nixon had one in his later years. A complete history of the cars can be found at the Imperial Club website.

This 1985 Executive Limo, one of 759 built that year, is owned by Dennis David, an automotive writer and photographer. It features fold-down jump seats and a sumptuous rear sofa. He reports that it belonged to a Connecticut funeral home, but was taken out of service in 1992 and has only recently been retrieved from storage. Dennis, also a sagacious appraiser, feels that the Little Limos comprise some of the most undervalued special-interest cars from the 1980s. Will they become 21st Century Fractional Classics? This car has already met one crtierion. Dennis reports that it once changed hands for $100.

Passengers entering this vehicle usually don’t see it from this angle, as their eyes are closed. The coachwork, which may look unusual, is British, and the chassis underneath it is Buick, not terribly common for a hearse. In the United States, most hearses now look something like this Superior Crown Sovereign, or the S&S Cadillac Medalist, both products of Accubuilt of Lima, Ohio, successor to old-line hearsebuilders Sayers & Scoville, Superior, Eureka and Miller-Meteor.

According to Gregg Merksamer, Publicity Director for the Professional Car Society and the CarPort’s expert witness on automobiles funereal, Cadillac has the lion’s share of the hearse business. The market is changing, however, and more and more funeral directors are using alternative vehicles, some converted from minivans. This Chevrolet Venture, for example, (rear view) converted by Eagle Coach Company of Amelia, Ohio, can be equipped with virtually any feature of a “big” hearse, including slide-out floor with rollers and polished bier pins . Additionally, a funeral home can order removable landau panels, making the “hearselet” less funebrious in “first call” service. Eagle, by the way, offers a full line of “specialty vehicles,” including hearses based on the Chevy Suburban, no doubt popular in Texas.

The 1937 Buick hearse that instigated this feature was seen at Beaulieu Autojumble, the British equivalent to Hershey, in September 2002. Recently disentombed after decades of storage, it was being offered for sale. Although it attracted many onlookers, it did not seem to draw eager buyers. Its current whereabouts are unknown. Gregg reports, however, that Buick hearses are not unknown in the USA. In 1994, he spent a couple of days with this Superior Buick Sovereign commercial glass coach, while on a job writing its owner’s manual. He reports the 260 hp LT-1 engine was “absolutely muscular,” despite the car’s extra ton of curb weight. Although the Buick Sovereign was discontinued when rear-drive GM cars disappeared for 1997, Buick funeral vehicles will continue. Eagle Coach has just announced a hearse version of the Buick Terraza.

Everyone recognizes this as a Jeep; the more inveterate spotters among us will call it an M38, the military version of the CJ-3A built by Willys-Overland. The eagle-eyed will suspect that the maple leaf flag has some significance and well it does. This a Canadian Jeep, designated M38-CDN, built for the armed forces of Canada. It is also a Ford Jeep.

“Hold on!” you say. “Ford built Jeeps, yes, but that was during World War II.” Indeed so. The US Army first selected a “Truck, Utility, 1/4 ton 4×4” designed by Karl Probst for the American Bantam Car Company. But when American Bantam had insufficient capacity to meet government orders, the main contract was let to Willys-Overland, a contender in the original competition. Later, Ford Motor Company, also a contender, was brought in, and for most of the war near-identical designs were built as the Willys MB and the Ford GPW. It’s interesting to look at Ford’s entry in the Army’s “Jeep competition”. Called the “Pygmy,” it was powered by a 9N tractor engine and used many other off-the-shelf Ford components, particularly in the interior. This Pygmy was photographed at Hershey a number of years ago.

This M38-CDN Jeep was indeed built by Ford – assembled by Ford Motor Company of Canada in Windsor, Ontario. Ford of Canada put together 2,135 M38-CDNs between February and November 1952. Some interesting facts about the M38-CDN can be found at the M38 page on the Jeep Web Ring. I snapped the M38-CDN at Hershey 2003. It was billed as “motor redone,” but the rest of the restoration was not for the faint-hearted.