Re: IML: Imperial love / hate relationship
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Re: IML: Imperial love / hate relationship
- From: <wardle65@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2007 11:04:43 +1000
I bought my 58 almost 2 years ago seen only in photos from a guy in
Mukilteo, Washington. There was a total of 20 odd phone calls back and
forth to the guy I bought it from and a lot anguish while I waited for it to
arrive here in Australia. The deal was not without problems as I was
promised it did have a title however after I paid for it the guy informed me
it didn't. He then wanted to pull out of the sale. Anyway I organised a
title from here in Australia. I then organised a car carrier to pick it up
to transport to Long Beach and the seller turned them away twice. I was
starting to get worried at this time and after more phone calls to the
transport company and the seller I had organised a time agreable to both for
pickup. I eventually did get the car on the water and it arrived unscathed.
My wife worried it wouldn't fit in the garage but I reassured her I looked
at the sales brochure on the IML and the total length 225.9 inches if
correct will just fit. Sure enough it does with mere inches to spare. I
have owned Valiants and a 58 Plymouth Belvedere before but this car is the
creme of the crop. Nothing will part me from this fine car ever. I love
it.
Regards
Chris Wardle
1958 Imp Crown Coupe
om: "Hugh, 58 Imperial" <imperial58@xxxxxxxxxxx>
To: <mailing-list@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Tuesday, September 11, 2007 4:12 AM
Subject: IML: Imperial love / hate relationship
In the vein of Laurie's recent contribution, let me just say that bringing
"my" 58 into the family was never a deal breaker but it has caused some
intense emotional responses along the way. First thing worth saying is
the car does not belong to me. It is owned by a museum. I used to be the
chairman of the board and am now it's manager, part-time, badly paid but
loving it. I fell for the 58 hard. After a long time working on it at
the museum, it became runnable enough to bring it home, which at that time
was an apartment. I never wanted to own a house, but my wife did, and my
way in was a garage for the 58. I turned down several house because the
car would not fit into the garage or the entrance was too awkward.
Anyhoo, soon enough we found a place when the car could squeeze in with
inches to spare on each side, and almost none fore and aft. The funny
thing is that the house and the car are contemporary to each other and all
cars were pretty big back then but there you have it.
My daughter, now 13, loved the car from the get go, especially being
picked from school in it. I'd let her sit on the arm rest in the middle
of the back seat with a wee strap to keep her in place. Twas she who
named it Mrs. Blueberry. My best compliment on the name came from a real
head turner female member of my local Mopar club who said it took a real
man to have the guts to call his car Mrs. Blueberry and introduce it as
such to anyone and everyone. I hadn't thought of it that way until then
but was happy to be given the idea and the ego stroke. However, my wide
hated the car, completely and resolutely. She referred to it as my girl
friend. When people phoned she'd say, "Oh, he's under his girl friend,
let me get him for you." My boss called once and that took more than a
little explaining.
Anyhoo, things changed when she started riding in it. Folks would go nuts
as we drove along. Hooting, hollering, waving, big thumbs up, honking,
the whole tilt. Funnily enough, I hardly noticed. I've been in so many
parades and other events over the last fifteen years, I just don't see it
anymore. But my wife loved the attention. She waves back and does the
whole happy owner thing. The fact that spending money on the car counts
as a donation to a registered charity and gets us tax breaks doesn't hurt
either. Now she wants me to get the car painted so it won't be so
embarrassing to be seen with it. From pull back to push forward. I'll
take it.
Another sweet response came when my parents came to stay. My father hated
the car. It represented to him, the stolid Englishman, the worst excesses
of Americana. Loud, large, and a waste of the earth's precious and scarce
resources. Not my mother though, she was happier than my daughter. Sat
there in the back seat doing the royal wave like she was born to it. She
thought the time I spent polishing a newly acquired set of 67/68 hub caps,
which go so well with the 58's grill, if you happen to have 15 inch wheels
on your 58 and not the original 14s, was total madness. She said she
wished I'd spent so much time on my studies. Now the drop-out has written
and had published one book and is working on another. I'm desperate to
get the Imperial onto the cover. Time and money, as ever, are the
problems. And so it goes.
Hugh
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