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And to think, Stephen King got his start much the same way. J (if only my
current car could fix itself as well as Christine) (sigh) KL -----Original Message----- Normally staid, conservative Chrysler advertising takes a turn for the surreal in this little item. http://imperialclub.com/Yr/1966/66Match/index.htm Please note that the photo on the first black page is a photo of then 14-year-old club-member and 1966 owner David Whitney the day that he met his match - the 1966 Imperial that's currently keeping the concrete on his driveway from floating into the upper atmosphere, but I get ahead of myself - this is the story of one magic night 40 years ago, when he first laid eyes on his new car. It's also the root of his nervous chain-smoking, a fact hinted at in the photo of him lighting his first-ever cigarette when he first sees his car at the dealership as he makes a deeper-than-expected emotional connection with what is otherwise a very ornate lump of metal and rubber. After tapping his trust-fund for cash to buy the car and have a dual-snorkel option installed at the dealership, we move forward in the story, as our hero runs through the rain to his waiting car (leaving the lights on in the parking lot is not advisable, but when you're in an ad that is the fore-runner to reality TV, the sky's the limit). Once in the super-car, David glances at his watch and although his car is fast, his lear jet is an even faster way to get to with his childhood friend and fellow Imperial owner Warren Buffet, so away he goes. When he gets to keeps coming, as professes her secret crush on him in the doorway. Being the good friend that David is, he runs out of the house and goes to play raquet ball on the other side of the estate to burn off his nervous energy, since a cold shower at presence is now out of the question. On his way back from his game, he is disappointed to see that out of the running car and gives it to her - begging her to return it to to have intestinal cramps and gas - and looking for a way - ANY way out of this situation. Fortunately Dottie was named by parents who knew what to expect, and she happily drives off in her leopard coat and the Imperial. Unfortunately for him, David is put further off balance when moment straight out of Pulp Fiction. Foreshadowing the roller coaster that John Travolta went on in that cautionary tale, David wines and dines Doris in downtown visiting the crack-house that she suggests, and instead going for the more familiar drug of choice - alcohol. I happened to be in town that night in my white convertible, but due to a head cold that forced me to wear that stupid pink hat (all the GF had at the time), I had to leave David and Dottie early (with the fervent hope that my buddy would get some love-connection action later). David and Dottie go for a drive through the rough part of town, followed by a chaser of aggressive shopping therapy for Dottie. In a moment of weakness, David shows favorite 1966 Imperial feature, the fully reclining passenger seat. Unfortunately, this isn't a serialized booklet, and the reader is left to wonder exactly happened between David and Dottie after the last frame. It is events like these that memories are made of. The ad copy and photos are both inconclusive and beg the question: Was it Dottie or his project car that turned out to be the real match that David met? Unfortunately, Chrysler still has to earn a living, and is not doing ongoing ad copy about engine-less '66 coupes fourty years later-on with shaggy paint (been quite a fall since that wild night in so the world waits for an answer, perhaps to be revealed on the pages of the club website when David overcomes his camera-shyness and proves that he was more than a match for his project car. ----------------- http://www.imperialclub.com ----------------- This message was sent to you by the Imperial Mailing List. Please reply to shared with everyone. Private messages (and attachments) for the Administrators should be sent to To UN-SUBSCRIBE, go to http://imperialclub.com/unsubscribe.htm |
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