{Very long read}
Here is my Imperialist version of today's marvelous cruise! To find out why
the seemingly inappropriate title, read on.
Today's cruise, called the AACOG (Alamo Area Council of Governments) or La
Bahia Run is a fascinating attempt to use car clubs to stimulate interest in
a somewhat neglected part of Texas. Many of the small towns to the south of
San Antonio are in decline and this event serves to create a unique area
wide range of events each having a rolling car show as its center piece.
Towns large and small throw events and block off their main streets and the
thirty or so car clubs rumble around stopping for at least half an hour in
various places. Imagine seeing all the Ford Thunderbirds leave while the
Mopar club arrives and the Model A group, or the Corvette group, or the
British car group, or the Porsche group, etc, etc may be the next to arrive.
There is a great atmosphere all day, and we truly get to both give a little
bit and enjoy a wonderful day.
Our club's participation was low this year. The event was all but rained
out last year, and the weather prognosticators were making threatening
noises last night, so I was not surprised. In fact there was only one other
Mopar, Mark's Plymouth GTX, our show car last year. There were four AMC's,
and, of all things, two '57 Chevies. Go figure. Not that the event was not
Mopar rich. I took snaps of a 1926, a 1949, a 1954 and a 1966 Chrysler,
which were dotted around, during the day. I also saw a wonderful 1914
Packard and other fine Packards too. The largest group was the Corvette
group who were about thirty strong. None from the '50s, however, so I had
no great interest in them. The Oldsmobile group was surprising strong,
maybe inspired by the impending demise of their make. Again, mainly 70s and
up muscle car types.
Mine was the only Imperial. I am glad to report that just until near the
very end the car ran impeccably. With its rebuilt starter, it was solid and
reliable. Not smoky at all, or not that anyone mentioned or that I could
see. We set off early, very early, under a threatening sky and the lightest
drizzle. Since I do not have functioning A/C at this time, I was happy to
see the clouds and hoped they might stave off the anticipated ninety degree
onslaught, but by eleven things were much brighter, and, hence, hotter. Oh
well.
We made several stops. Floresville. Poth. Lunch at Helena, an old ghost
town, once the county seat, and a notoriously rough place with murders and
gun fights a-plenty, until it was by-passed by the railroad and reduced to a
population, now, of five or six. But the welcome they make! And the food!
Lovely. In the shadow of the old court house. Then onto Runge, and,
finally, Goliad, site of the La Bahia presidio, a town steeped in history
and still very vital to this day.
I must tell you what happened at Helena. There was a good contingent of
Cadillacs there, including a very nice '59 convertible. I was amused to
recollect a DEC '58 article submitted by Dan Wing, where GM is accused of
building an Imperial clone in the 59 Cadillac, and the similarities are
quite striking. Anyhoo, they saw the Imperial and decided to get a close
look. Unable to locate the owner in the crush of car enthusiasts - there
must have been about 150 cars there by now, of every make, model and era,
They proceeded to scope the car. Deciding that since the owner - me - had
left all the windows open and the keys in the ignition, he probably would
not mind if they popped open the hood and trunk, too. Excellent deduction.
Anyone who walks past thirty or so Corvettes to scope my ratty Imperial is
A-OK in my book. But a friend of mine, an inveterate car locker, pointed
out their interest to me and obliged me to go over and keep an eye on
things. I ambled over - it was quite a distance away, and the group of six
or so white haired gentlemen in their sixties, was well into discussing the
Imperial. Despite the new installed 58 plates, they had determined it to be
of early '60s vintage. In essence, they knew nothing about it at all, but
as I am equally as ignorant regarding Caddies, I did not mind at all.
"Well, one things for sure, boys," opined one, "These cars certainly give
Cadillacs a run for their money. Considering the source, that's high, high
praise indeed. "I wish I could hear the engine," said another. "So, start
her up," I said, as way of introduction. They turned toward me and
apologized for their intrusion thus far. I said, "Gosh, I'm just waiting
for one of you to offer me a trade. It's fine. Do you really want to hear
it run?" With my newly rebuilt starter I knew I would not be embarrassed
and, sure enough, the engine roared into life in an instant. They were
delighted, and congratulated me on the car, effusively. Then one said, "I
see you are saving the paint job for last." I stiffened a little,
anticipating a put down which would sour the whole scene. (You have to SEE
my car to understand that his reaction was normal. The car looks VERY bad.)
"Smart man," he continued. "I did the paint first, and by the time I had
finished with the mechanicals and the interior, I had to get it painted
again." What a hero! Anyone who can work up a compliment even about my
awful paint is a true gentleman.
After Goliad, at around 5:00 PM, we headed home. Once we reached the main
drag, I was alone and decided it was time to ratchet up the pace a little.
With my two young companions asleep on the back seat, we cruised along at
around 80 MPH. Everything was lovely. I made sure to slow down for each of
the towns we went through, Kenedy, (NOT a typo!), Karnes City, Poth and
Floresville again. I saw quite a few state troopers making other drivers'
days, no doubt. Suddenly, just at the edge of San Antonio, about one mile
from Loop 1604, disaster struck. At 80 MPH, or so, the dinner sized plate
located behind the headlights and above the passenger front wheel slipped
down and neatly shredded the tire. It peeled off the tread with ease and
complete effectiveness. The noise was awful, as was the shuddering. I
thought I had bust another drive shaft. Under control, I rolled to the
right shoulder, although steering was tight. I did not brake harshly, to
avoid making a bad situation worse. At rest, with two suddenly awoken girls
looking frightened - don't forget I had both of them on board the '92
Chrysler when it was totaled - I surveyed the scene. Nope, not the drive
shaft, but the front passenger wheel sure looked funky.
Amazingly, it had not burst! With all the tread scraped off, it had held
together. Way to go Goodyear! If it had burst at that speed I dare say the
outcome could have been VERY different. Very different indeed. Amazing
good fortune on a totally unpredictable event. (In passing, I am not sure
what the piece does, unless it is a fender stiffener of some kind. I
removed the drivers side piece in 1994. It's in my garage. I tried to
replace it, once, but gave up.) A quick scope of my so-called spare
revealed what I already knew to be true. It was there more for show than
for actual use. It was badly scrubbed towards the center. And also
virtually empty, too. Fortunately, we did not have far to go, so it might
suffice. With my ever present tire cross wrench, a four wheel jack and a
small air compressor, I was in good shape to swap them out. About the time
the first wheel was off, Karen, a companion on the cruise, stopped in her
brown AMC Matador. Karen knows her car stuff. In fact its her husband who
could not care less about them. She agreed my spare was very lame, and
offered to shepherd me back into town in case of more excitement. If it
looked very bad, we could always stop at a gas station, leave the Imperial
there and try to locate a spare either that evening or tomorrow.
Fortunately, all went well and we made it home safely, albeit much later
than anticipated, as I did not exceed 50 MPH on such a potentially weak
tire.
So, as far as I am concerned, it was a fantastic day. Not enough Imperials,
but, other than that, a good showing for Mopar in general. I don't know
when I might ever experience enough, or, imagine the possibilities, too
many, Imperials. It's an intriguing thought to conjure with, however.
Hugh
Until further notice, celebrate everything
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