As you know, my friend down in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, Jayson Coombes, attends many, many car shows around those environs. Several posts I’ve written on this fine site have come from his camera.
It helps that we like the same kinds of vintage rolling stock! Namely, 1930s-1990s big American cars. So today, here’s a nice example of 1957 Cadillac he spotted last month. For further reading, you may want to check out my post on a 1957 Coupe de Ville. Which, coincidentally, was also photographed by Jayson!
There was just something about that grille and that beautiful leather trim. As a fourth grader in about 1989, I knew nor cared one whit about British styling influences on the plushest Volvo. I just knew I liked them. As most of you fine folks know, save a few persistently negative persons of interest, love has little to no basis in rationality.
Oh, this is awkward.
Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, once the darling of every small-town activist librarian aghast at the idea of not making Tropic Of Cancer and Fear Of Flying mandatory reading for nine-year-olds, turns out to have had a few, ahem, controversial aspects to it. In particular, the book railed against a society where abortion is encouraged and children are shuttled off to anonymous daycare.
Don’t remember that part? That’s because you probably read the censored version.
Just a little over four years ago, Patrick The Bass Player and I drove to Victor Wooten’s Bass And Nature Camp, about an hour west of Nashville, in the hope that we could learn how to “jam”. It didn’t work out for us — but I suspect it didn’t work out for Victor either, because in the years that followed the “jam sessions” disappeared from the camp calendar.
For 2019, the camp listed just one open weekend, at just over three times the price of the old sessions and with quite a bit of rigor added to the schedule. I decided to pay the money and go, for two reasons. The first was that I’d left a Handwired Tube Screamer on the premises, and I was anxious to get it back. The second, and more relevant, reason was that I’d pulled an Eddie Van Halen in the four years since my last visit, which is to say that I’d replaced a likeable and competent bassist with… my own son.
The 1965 Ford was a big change from the 1960-64s, with pretty much everything new except for engines and transmissions. And this same basic chassis, despite major stylistic changes in 1969, 1971 and 1975, essentially carried on until the fall of 1978 when the Panther-chassis LTD and Marquis appeared.
Quite a run! And while Ford couldn’t quite beat GM in the sales race when it came to full-size, bread and butter cars, they still put out some attractive machines.
You may remember Jason Bagge, he of the Brougham Whispering. The 1974-76 “Glass House” Caprice coupe, so named due to its huge, fixed quarter windows, is probably his favorite old car. Many of his cars have been written up here on RG, including a ’76 Bonneville, ’76 Ninety-Eight and 1978 Marquis. You may also recall he’s had two different 1976 Caprice Classic Landau coupes.
One triple black…
And one triple burgundy.
I’ve always enjoyed out of the way restaurants. Non chain, often family owned, and in existence for decades. The 1940s through the 1970s were probably the golden era of the supper club. Chains and the increasing monotony of towns and cities across the country over the last thirty years have done their work. But the restaurant, roadhouse or supper club, usually located on the now-secondary, once-primary highway routes, are still out there.
My dad’s parents were really into supper clubs in the late ’50s and ’60s. On a Friday or Saturday night, they thought nothing about hopping into the car with several friends and driving into Iowa City to The Highlander, or The Lark, in Tiffin, Iowa, for a night of steaks, chops, tossed salads, cocktails and gigantic baked potatoes. Of course, they went in style, dressed to the nines. Such was the time.
He’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Robert Farago makes Hagerty debut today with “Straight Outta Tribeca”, his recurring gonzo take on the automotive business. Get ready to read about cars, guns, Mexican excursions, and Shelby F-150s. It is my immense pleasure to bring Robert back to autowriting — and to revitalize a professional relationship that has lasted eleven long years now.
And don’t worry — I’m not done getting the band back together. Not quite yet. Hope you have some vellum antidote handy…
The new article is right here. Enjoy,
Subscribers to the newest issue of Hagerty Magazine will see my byline with a piece entitled “SCCA And The Struggle To Endure”. Shortly after its publication, I received an absolutely irate email from noted club racer and bon vivant Toly Arutunoff. He called it “purple prose” and “bull puckey”. See what all the fuss is about — and read it today!
This morning, let’s talk about the 1952-55 Lincolns. They replaced the first all-new postwar 1949-51 Lincolns, and while were much more modern looking and finally came in that hot new bodystyle, the two-door hardtop, they also were a little less distinct that Lincolns of the not-so-distant past.
Of course, most gearheads today remember these primarily as the “Road Racing Lincolns” due to their achievements in the Carrera Panamericanas of the early to mid-’50s, but there was more to them than just that. Despite their power and handling prowess, they were, for most well-heeled buyers, good-looking, plush, modern luxury cars. There was no more Continental, no more long-wheelbase limousines. And for many, Lincoln seemed to be chasing Olds and Buick instead of Cadillac. But there’s no denying their clean good looks.