(Long, rambling, Sunday morning post. Enjoy! )
Hi. Many of you are not fortunate enough to have been to Utopia even once.
Me, I went there yesterday, and I'm going back today. Utopia, Texas, that
is. (for those of you thinking 'Now there's an oxymoron if ever I heard
one,' think again.
My eight year old daughter's independent social life is starting to intrude
on mine, so the trick is to combine them, somehow. Yesterday I took her and
four companions, plus most of their stuff, over to a girl scout camp ground
near Utopia. The other adults rode in another car which the remainder of
their gear. Have you ever tried to drive with five over excited eight year
old girls in your car. My kid is an only child, and I cannot be reminded to
count my blessings often enough, evidently. How bad was it? Well, the
scout leader pulls over to the side of the freeway half way there - it's
about an hour and a half drive - and reads the girls the riot act. Totally
ignores me right till the end when I just get a venomous look, and the
ultimate put down question, "Weren't you even trying to control them?" It
was neither the time nor the place to have a conversation regarding
perceptions of safety and the degrees of appropriate behaviour in vehicles.
My father, who had six kids, and, not infrequently, a three row of seats
station wagon, worked on the theory of better happy noises than upset ones.
Through all this the Imperial ran amazingly well. Took the full load in her
stride. The trip starts off kind of dull. One is traversing the flat,
arable land just south of the Edwards Escarpment, not a terrain that gives
rise to either paeans of praise or eulogy. Flat and good for fast
travelling. Going through the small towns is interesting. The railroad
and the highway run parallel right through their centers. Through
Castroville, Hondo, D'Hanis to Sabinal, they all follow a pattern unique to
their highway and railroad circumstances.
At Sabinal, one takes a right and begins to head towards the escarpment. At
first, even on a beautiful day like yesterday, you can barely see it, but,
as the miles go by, it looms larger and larger. The roads become less
straight and begin to undulate with the terrain. Having dropped my cargo
off, I kept going in the same direction, heading towards Canyon country. I
wanted to take the back road to Bandera. What a good choice, if I say so
myself. The Imperial, good as it is on the freeway, really gets to show its
chops in this fascinating terrain. It drives so magnificently through the
twists and turns, the rises and depressions, like the thoroughbred it is. I
drove a great deal in mountainous Scotland, in a completely different kind
of car, a Citroen 2CV, and loved it, but the Imperial experience is
different again, and equally as entertaining. With all that power, not a
phrase that can ever be applied to the Citroen, she just gallops along,
handling the curves, long and tight, with total ease and poise. She zooms
up long, steep hills with a desire to reach the top that does not include
any hesitation or slowing down. The 58 can accelerate for the entire length
of the steep upgrades.
Its only flaw, if one can call it that, is somewhat reluctant engine
braking. Maybe the mass of the car makes the work doubly difficult, but
using the engine to slow down seems to be the only time the car is under any
kind of pressure. The engine note changes considerably and one is tempted
to use the brake pedal more than one would in another car. Maybe its the
automatic transmission, a means of engine power delivery I always find to be
less than satisfactory.
The car was wonderful. Maybe fuel consumption was a little on the high
side, but, then again, I was hardly driving conservatively. I hope all of
you get to use your Imperials the way they were meant to be driven every
once in a while. Isn't it good to be reminded what truly magnificent cars
they are. I admit, I fell for Mrs. Blueberry based on her looks first of
all. Indeed, it took me four years to make her road legal, and a couple
more to work out the handicaps caused by old age and protracted inactivity.
A huge investment, to be sure. But, oh so worth while.
Hugh
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