{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