Us rare few who are attracted enough to Imperials to own them and maintain
them are evidently a diverse group. Very possibly the Imperial itself is
the only thing we have in common. Every time we go off topic we end up in
some sort of spat or other. Activity on the list goes up and down. Threads
emerge, merge, submerge and re-emerge like waves against the sand.
There are so many reasons to like Imperials and so many avenues to owning
one, it is often difficult to read one person's opinion being put forward as
the absolute truth. My own story is that when I first came to this country,
I knew nothing about American cars. Not Lincolns, or Studebakers, or
Pontiacs or Plymouths. I had no interest in cars except the one I owned,
which was a French throw back called the Citroen 2CV.
I had enjoyed visiting transportation museums in the UK, particularly one in
a village some 25 miles from Aberdeen. I visited the museum in San Antonio
and was invited to join, which I did. The cars it had were virtually
abandoned and were dusty, dirty, neglected and ignored. I bought a
California car duster and cleaned off all 30 or so cars in a day. I
inflated tires, polished chrome and made it look as if someone actually
cared about the cars we had. This led to one or two of them being started
up and run. I had little part in this except I was usually the one who got
to drive them.
So I had cleaned up the 58 Imperial quite a bit even before I knew what it
was. The car had only one identifying label, in a hard to read script:
Imperial. I really didn't think too much about it as I sat inside to wipe
off the interior surfaces and vacuum it out. With its rear end against the
wall, I hardly noticed the big fins and tiny tail lights with the ring
around them.
At that time we had a 1929 Cord Beverly sedan and a 1946 Rolls Royce among
other things. We got the 24 Buffalo fire truck running again, and the 1929
Model AA flat bed truck, plus an early 70's Austin Taxi. I would show
visitors around a little, if they wanted. I was surprised by the interest
shown in the Imperial. Folks would ask me if it was OK to open the hood.
It always was. It was a filthy mess, all things considered, but a strange
word kept on being mentioned, one I had never heard before: Hemi. Didn't
mean a thing to me or any other museum volunteers. I was assured it was not
a Hemi by one long time member. The strange thing was that with so many
other cars around, the big blue boat seemed to attract more than its fair
share of attention.
One thing led to another. Some older museum members began to be upset by
the fact that the cars were being started and driven. It was just me and my
friend Tony and both of us were still relative newcomers and some of the old
guard did not see any need for any effort to be expended on the cars. I
think it was even suggested they be sold off one way or another, which
included for scrap. People can be so blind and silly sometimes. You'd
think you would not have to put up with such attitudes but in life you will
always meet naysayers and curmudgeons.
The rest is all history, I suppose. I became more and more attached to the
58 Imperial. It could have been the 63 Lincoln convertible or the 69 Buick
Electra 225 convertible, since my favorite type of cars are convertibles,
but the four door hardtop style was very attractive and somehow sensible
under the Texas sun. Because of it I have made choices and ended up in
places I never would have without it. Eventually I became chairman of the
museum. I joined the local Mopar club which, even though it is a muscle car
club, welcomed me and the Imperial warmly. To my amazement I have become a
reasonably sufficient mechanic for the car. Nowhere near as good as I'd
like to be, but, with determination and hard work, I have managed to weather
a lot of the odd problems the car presents. I find it oddly reassuring that
when other people pitch in they soon realize that this car has challenges
above and beyond what the have experienced before.
There is no accounting for our enthusiasm for these pretty much forgotten
and overlooked cars. You won't find it on a balance sheet, or in pop
psychology analysis of why anyone might want one. Some folks go with common
collector cars, like 57 Chevies, or Mustangs, or Chargers. They like the
fact that there are plenty of other people out there who know what it is and
also own them. It makes finding parts and getting help so much easier.
Folks will tell you with rapture what it is that makes their Corvette or
Rolls Royce different from others, which is OK with me. I don't think you
have to do that with an Imperial. They are so rare that you really don't
have to explain what it is that sets them apart. So rare that we gravitate
to this mailing list for long distance support, advice, knowledge and
experience. One can feel quite lonely as an Imperialist and this list
brings with it may things, not the least of which is companionship.
Among ourselves, I can muse on the multiplicity of different kinds of 58s,
the four body styles, five if you include the ultra rare limo. The various
trim levels and the dazzling amount of options a buyer could choose from at
any trim level. But none of this explains my enthusiasm for the car, or my
willingness to slog over hurdle after hurdle in the attempt to keep it
roadworthy. My fellow foreign Texan, Dimitrios, has a thing for 68s which
also goes beyond rational explanation, although neither of us are lost for
words trying to encapsulate what it is about the cars we like.
My car has become more than a hobby. It is an avocation. It is
tremendously satisfying when everything is going well, and terribly
important to me to try to keep it that way. It is beyond numbers, money and
time. During the best of times and the worst of times, it is something that
is crucially important to me. An angler likes to fish, a golfer likes to
play golf. It really is that simple.
Hugh
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