IML: Ephemeranow.com, Imperials galore, plus every car Detroit put out in the 50's, or at least a desirable few...

["Wm. R. Ulman" <twolaneblacktop@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

If I have not already directed you all to this wonderful site, I am now.
There are many different year Imperials, and all other makes from the 50's
here, as well as other Madison Avenue crap we were fed so as to believe if
we did not own, or use what was being pitched at us, we were not only behind
the times, and bad Americans, we were also not hygienic either, and our
neighbors would know it.

Enjoy: http://www.ephemeranow.com/cars/cars.htm

Personally, I listened to my mother and her advice, she used to tell my
Dad's clients, and wives, if they were along, when visiting our home, which
in reality was spotless, but anyway, she would always say "A clean house is
very important to my husband, and one day, I hope he finds one.  The day I
worry about a clean house is the day Sears comes out with a riding vacuum!"
That won over the wives, and in the end, my dad got the deal done.  My dad
was extremely funny, and could crack up a room at any time.  My mom is like
Sara Lee Coffee Cake, nobody doesn't like her.  That's my take anyway.  I
sure do love her.

My mom is a very wise woman, at 5 feet tall, I've seen her back a Sears Auto
Center Manager against a wall one day after we went for tires, and other
stuff.  While the car was being done, my mom and I went out for Ice Cream,
and a stroll down Miracle Mile, which is in Coral Gables, FL.  A high end
City of it's own within Miami.  Miracle Mile was, and still is last time I
was down in Miami, that 50's style shopping district with big picture
windows, script store names, and the roof that went out over the tree lined
sidewalk, and you parked diagonally.  Malls had not yet killed these strips.
My dad had died that year in '74, but while my dad was still alive, and
making good dough, we lived the good life, and even after he died, my mom
kept the house up for a couple of years, working again as a legal secretary,
but finally had to sell it, and we moved to South Miami (GASP), where I
thought all the poor people lived, into a nice 3 bedroom, 2/12 bath
Townhouse with a two car carport, and a back, and side yard as our unit was
on the end.  In reality it was huge for a townhouse, and quite nice too, we
just did not have a pool, gardener, or a maid anymore.  I rode my bike to
Coral Gables Senior High each day 5 miles each way, drenched in sweat
(dreaming of an Imperial as my first car) upon arrival at either
destination, school, or home.  In 1976-1979 Gables High was the only
Air-Conditioned High School in Dade County.  Rich kids parents, and PTA
drives took care of that.  I waited the entire 7 years we had lived in My
Agony, I mean Miami, to get to that school, and was not about to go back to
sweating my ass off at South Miami High.  Plus both my brothers graduated at
Gables and I insisted on doing the same.

When we got back to pick up the car, my mom paid for it, and was so happy to
have finally paid off her '71 Dodge Colt, and be rid of that nasty $60.00 a
month car payment, but it was '74 now, and the car needed tires.  When we
got in the car, and started off, the car wobbled a bit, and I said something
was wrong, but my mom pulled out onto the street anyway, and within a block,
the car was pitching in a jerking manner from side to side, and my mom
finally was concerned enough to listen to me, she made a completely illegal
U-Turn, and headed back to Sears.  When we got there, I pulled off one of
the hubcaps, and the lug nuts were barley even screwed on more than three
turns, not even hand tightened.  My mom was at that time 31, and was/is
still extremely beautiful, very Liz Taylor, had long dark hair, bright
violet eyes, 5 feet, 100 lbs, and all chest, which she used to her advantage
on more than one occasion, to my horror, but man, don't piss her off.  She
had the shop manager backing up against a wall, while yelling that we, but
she used me as her young son, I could have been killed.  When she gets
going, and the cuss words come out, you know your in trouble.  My mom,
Bonnie Jean, is from Dayton, Ohio, solid Mid-West, but split for San
Francisco at 18 in 1960 and is very enlightened, and can stand her ground
with the best of them.  Anyway, the shop manager was your typical ex-jock,
you know, neck so big he can't button his shirt, and his tie is never quite
tight.  He was petrified, and she was poking him in the chest.  Needless to
say, word got to the Sears Store Manager, and he was there in a heartbeat.
We got the tires, tune-up for free, a voucher for free brake job, front end
work when needed, and a scared ass apology from the kid who screwed up by
not tightening the lug nuts in the first place.  That store manager walked
around the car himself, checked every tire, the engine bay, oil, water,
tranny fluid, and then held the door for my mom, who had calmed back down to
a mere smoldering volcano.  I knew then and there I was going to be the best
teenager ever.  I failed at that task, but I did not want that fury directed
at me!  Only once did I get her riled up bad, and when I said something
'70's, and stupid like "I need more space", she grabbed me by the arm, and
locked me outside.

Oh well, there is Imperial content in there somewhere.  If not, then my dad
looked at one while buying my mom a car in September of '71, and while at
the Chrysler/Plymouth dealer we (I got to go along as I loved cars so much
even then) looked at the Valiant, but my mom said it was to big, and she was
tired of sitting on pillows, so we looked at the '71 Plymouth Cricket.
Yeah, the Cricket.  Lasted about 2 years I think, and was an English car if
I am correct.  My dad though spent several minutes in an Imperial LeBaron
4dr in the showroom, and I was praying to the Patron Saint of Motorcars
(who, at the time, I identified as being the buxom, long blond haired lady
in the Dodge commercials of the time wearing a white hat, large lapelled
balloon sleeved white blouse, white hot pants, and knee high white patent
leather boots, who told us to go see our local Dodge boys.  I was in love.
They should revive that commercial series), that he would trade in our god
awful '67 Ford Country Sedan wagon for this dark blue, black vinyl top, and
dark blue, or maybe black leather interior Imperial.  My mom pulled him back
to reality, and reminded him the wagon was a company car, and they would not
be very happy with the trade, even if he was National Marketing Manager, and
we were looking at a car for her.  Damn!  The next year, we did get a new
f*c*ing Ford Gran Torino Wagon, dark blue, dark blue vinyl interior.
Another company car.  Boring.  Again, I digress, sorry.  Anyway, my mom
thought the Cricket was just wrong.  Period.  Wrong.  So after more
caressing of the Imperial we left.  My dad's mood had taken a turn for the
worse after the Imperial let down, and we had been to Datsun (to boxy),
Toyota (new styles for all lines in '71, but only dark colors were
available, which is bad in the glaring sun of FL, and to pricey according to
my dad), the Chrysler/Plymouth dealer actually recommended Dadeland Dodge
down the road, which had it's own new small car, the Dodge Colt.  I loved it
at first sight, my mom loved the way it drove, and the way she sat in it as
she is so small, my dad liked it to, but said with an Imperial he would get
her some nice leather pillows made to match the interior. Jokingly he said
it, but mom reacted, or I should say completely did not even acknowledge he
had spoken a word, as if he were a mute, or she was deaf, and said this Colt
was the car.  She liked the way the A/C cooled the car down very fast, and
it was just what she needed.  

Then my dad went into action.  Two hours later he had a price, but would not
commit, the salesman, and sales manager in a tizzy trying to get him to
sign.  It was 4:40 p.m. (I had a new watch my dad brought me from
Switzerland.  I wear it to this day.), and we had been out since morning
looking.  My Dad said he would think about it overnight, and we left without
another word.  The sales manager was not happy, and my mom, always right on
queue, said she wanted this car, which the salesman used to try to keep my
dad at the dealership.  The Colt was Robin's egg blue, light blue interior,
A/C, AM/FM radio, bumper guards, and with an automatic.  My  mom insisted
she was not about to shift a car 500 times going to the store, and a couple
other options, as it did not offer many, but a few.  We drove home, had
dinner, and spoke about how nice the Colt really was, and I was perplexed at
why we had not bought the car.  The dealership closed at 7:00 pm, and right
at 6:30 pm, as was his plan, my dad took my mom, and me back to the dealer,
but this time in my mom's '63 Dodge 330 4dr, Salt air rusting it away, paint
oxidized beyond hope, interior smelled musty, and it's fabric interior was
decaying from the hot sun, and humidity, but I loved that car with it's push
button tranny, and park lever you slide from left to right, the pop up A/C
vents, and whatever V-8 it may have had.  We bought it used in '69 from the
original owner for $300.00 when we moved to FL from CA, where we had sold my
mom's '61 Comet 2dr coupe (one of my all time favorites with the Cat Eye
Fins, the Mercury version of the Falcon, ruined in '62 in my opinion).  We
arrived at the dealership at 6:50 p.m., ten minutes before they closed, and
of course they all were ready and wanted to go home and get drunk.  My dad
went in, or we all went in, I was told to get a soda, and sit quietly, and
my dad calmly said he was there to buy the car, but was trading in the '63
330 to do it.  The colt was the only 4dr model left with the options my
dad/mom required, as it was September '71, and the '72's were due to arrive
any day.  My dad said that was the best time of year to buy a car,
especially if there was a major style change for the new year.  If so, the
value of the old one would not hold up at the dealer, as everyone would want
the newer one, which in those days styles did change still pretty
frequently.  Not a completely new style every three years anymore, but
enough each year to make a difference.  The '72 Colt was not any different,
but my dad had a price two hours earlier, but now wanted it for less,
$200.00 less, and he wanted $700.00 trade in value for the '63.  It was now
7:00 p.m., closing time, and the sales manager was not amused, but my dad
said we were there to buy the Colt, as my mom wanted to drive to church in
it the next day, and be seen in her new car.  At 8:30 p.m., we drove out in
our new Colt, my dad got the car for $2,800.00, sticker was $3,300.00 with
all options, and ended up getting $500.00 for the '63 330 4dr. So all in all
he paid $2,300.00 for a well optioned small car, first year model, which he
argued was not in his best interest to buy a first year model.  A truth that
I hold to this day.  Look at the '57 Imperial quality issues (more Imperial
content).  He also made $200.00 on the trade of the '63, which we bought for
$300.00 2 1/2 years earlier.  Now this may not sound like much, but were
talking 1971 money here.  A new VW Bug was $1,700.00, and an Imperial could
be had for less than probably $10,000.00 still.  The average working man, or
woman's salary was $150.00 a week ($600 a month, $7,200.00 a year), or a bit
more if you had a real good job.  My dad made real good money for the time,
around $25,000.00 a year, with benefits, and company car.  My mom went back
to work in '74 right before my dad died, and only pulled down $12-13K as a
high end legal secretary who typed 120 words a minute.  So the average car
was still in the $4,000.00 to $6,000.00 range.  That rule holds true to this
day for the most part.  Average new car costs 1/2 the average American's
annual salary.  Now that both parental units each work in this day, the
average annual Ameican household income is like $40-50K, and a the average
new car costs $22-25,000.00.  Ridiculous.  I remember in about '77, or '78
people were aghast that a new Ford LTD, or Chevy could run $10K for a nice
Caprice.

The closest I ever go to a new Imperial after that was when we got rear
ended by a drunk guy, in his beautiful new '72 Labaron.  We had the '72 Gran
Torino by then, another disappointment of my youth.  The bumpers were still
chrome, but by '72 were really just strips across the front and rear of the
car, and they hitched together when we got bumped.  My dad was on the back
of the wagon, and this other fellow was on the front end of his Imperial
bouncing them till the bumpers released from each other.

After my dad died in '74, my mom did the best she could for our family, and
that was great by the way.  She never touched that Gran Torino again, and it
sat in our driveway for over a year till my dad's company finally called,
and came and got it.  They thought my mom could use it, but she never did.
A couple years later my older brother, Geoff, wrapped the Colt around a Palm
tree in '76.  Drunk, he tried to pull away from it, but just spun around the
tree a couple of times.  That really helped the damage.  Geoff has totaled
every single car he ever owned.  Idiot.  I had elected to stay home that
night, thank God.  My mom was out on her boyfriends boat for the night, and
had to be called Ship-to-Shore, and come home that night.  Another real big
example of my mom's fury the next day when she had my brother's friends, and
parents over to "discuss" the accident, and the beer found in the car.  We
still lived in the Gables, and were considered rich by the other kids, and
parents standards.  Mike Ringwald, now my best friend in FL still, kept
quiet, and respectful, but Johnny Kleffer (surely in prison for life by now)
pulled a "f**k off attitude and posture with my mom, which did not sit well
with her, so she got up, walked over to Johnny, and got in his face about
how that car was her livelihood, who did he think he was, and he better
shape up and give her a little respect considering the events of the
previous night, or she would wipe that smirk off his face with, or without
his mom being there, and have his ass handed over to the police for buying
the beer.  Since the accident happened on our Church's grounds the police
were not called.  Geoff was driving WOT across a large grassy area that had
become moist with dew, and the car went sideways into the palm tree.
Johnny's mom was hung over that Sunday morning, and not at all happy about
having to listen to my mom, and her own creep son give attitude, so she
smacked him up side the head, seriously, WHAP, and little Johnny took
notice, and paid close attention from that moment on.  Those 3 boys paid the
deductible on the repair, the parents paid for a rental car for my mom while
the Colt was being fixed, and Geoff lost the privilege of using my mom's car
ever again.  I just smiled.  It got fixed, but was never right again.  I
learned to drive in that car (at school we had '76 Olds Cutlass's to drive),
but when the tranny died at 50,000 miles on the Colt, my mom traded it in
for a '69 Ford Country Squire wagon, and the next day, on my 16th birthday
(I was not waiting one more day for my license) I had to take my driving
test in that car after being used to a nimble little Colt.  The license
tester riding with me had a buzz cut that must have been done with a laser,
and no sense of humor.  Must have been retired military, blurting out orders
to me.  I imagined his name was something like "Corporal Punishment", and he
had kids no doubt into Punk Rock.  When it came to the parallel parking test
in that wagon I thought I would fail miserably.  but I aced it first time,
and knew big American cars were the way to go.  Still do.  I also knew I
only had one year to be able to use my mom's car when she did not need it,
so I was the youngest of my brothers to have my own first car at 17.  Not an
Imperial, but a '68 Cougar XR7.  First and last Ford for me.  Well, except
for the German Ford, a '74 Mercury Capri with the 2800 V-6, marketed when
new in '71 in Europe as the "European Mustang".  That was a good car till it
got so many parking tickets the city towed it one day, and the cost to get
it back was double what I paid for it, so I mailed them the signed title.
San Francisco, what are you going to do?  Never any parking anywhere, at
anytime.  If you find a space you tend to keep it, tickets or not.  Most
people just pay their tickets.  I wallpapered my bathroom with them.

Well, that's my story of the week.  Did not mean to write a book, but I
guess I had a story to tell.  I'm being told I am a very good writer, and
should write a book.  Maybe I will give it a try.  I will need to secure
releases from all my family and friends though!  It won't be pretty, but it
will be funny!

Hope everyone is able to go out and get their Imperials on the Highways and
Byways of America this weekend.  The weather in Seattle has been extremely
nice, and sunny, and in the low 50's each mid-day, so I have had the top
down, jacket zipped, heat blasting, and enjoying the gifts I have in this
life.  My Imperial being on the top of the list, of material things anyway.
As I blow by all the new jelly bean small cars that are $15-20K, I think
back to that '71 Dodge Colt, and miss it.  By the way, the Colt was built by
Mitsubishi, and was Chryslers first foray into Japanese cars.  Chrysler
ended up owning 25% of Mitsubishi, and may still, as some of the new cars
offered by Chrysler are Mitsubishi built, like the Dodge Status Coupe, and
Chrysler Sebring Coupe, not the convertible, just the coupe.  Two entirely
different cars.  I have no idea what the Plymouth Cricket was, and have only
seen maybe one in the last 20 years.  I still think it was British.

Bill Ulman
Seattle, WA
'66 Crown Convertible Coupe - Doris Day







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