John Herrell
03-01-2016, 10:37 PM
2015.
(As the saying goes, I think this is where you all came in.)
This is now a contemporary story. Time to go first person.
50 years have passed. It’s the Golden Anniversary year. And what a fine year it is. And as for The Anniversary Celebration? Simply a Tour d’ California on the Harley. South through The Gold Country and into Yosemite. Then across The Big Valley to San Luis Obispo. San Simeon (all these years and we’d never taken the tours!). Big Sur, Carmel, Monterey, Half Moon Bay, thru The City, across The Golden Gate Bridge to Olema, Bodega Bay, Mendocino, Garberville (The Benbow Inn!), then back across the state eastbound to Lake Almanor, Nevada City (now California’s finest Gold Rush Town), and back down The Gold Country “Highway” #49. This could be a leisurely 3 day trip. We took 9. Oh yeah, Highway 49 PLUS Highway 1. Equals? Perfect!
OK, enough about that. Here we are, 50 years in. If at this point (or any time previous) anyone had told me there would be a mid-‘50s car in my future, I wouldn’t have argued. Never assumed it so, but could not rule it out. And I always assumed said car would be either a ’57 Chevy Bel Air or a ’57 T-Bird. Simple as that.
As previously confessed, since 1956 I have had a love of The Continental Mark II. But never in my wildest dreams did I think one could actually enter my life. Whenever I see one on the road, I gawk. I give ‘em a thumbs-up and if we get to a red light I offer a word or 2 of envy.
But somewhere along the way this year, I come to the realization that owning a Mark II could actually be a reality, a real possibility.
And I start to look.
I get a sense of the market. I join the Mark II Forum and begin to learn a little about the subject. (What a great resource.) And occasionally one pops up for sale. Actually, my friend, Spike, who now drops in on The Forum helped me find this one. He spotted one out in St. Louis (2,000 miles away from me). And he called the dealer to explain his friend was looking for a Mark II in decent shape, a “driver” that was up to a cross-country trip to California. I was interested, though I didn’t like the paint scheme, Red and White. My strong feeling is that’s fine for a mid-‘50s T-Bird, but NOT for a stately Mark II. But Spike learned they had just received another one on the lot that was probably a better fit. Pretty nice shape and running fine. And Black (as God intended).
I had a good friend in St. Louis go over and check it out, complete with photos. I hired a local mechanic to give it a good once over. It checked out fine (but had issues – no show stoppers – that he should have picked up). He did fix a few things, most importantly the heater and engine thermostat. And he converted the windshield wipers to an electric drive. While he was doing this, I hopped an eastbound train bound for St. Louis.
Amtrak does ok. It’s not great but neither is it terrible. I took the old Santa Fe Southwest Chief route. The worst thing about it is that Amtrak doesn’t own or maintain the tracks and they are in terrible shape. Really terrible. But nevertheless, it was a fine 3 day excursion, with a sleeping car and decent fare in the dining car.
I arrived in St. Louis, got a chance to visit with my friends there (he who had checked out the Mark II), and took delivery of my new Pride & Joy. I didn’t particularly care if mine was a ’56 or a ’57 though I think ’57 is definitely more “my year.” I have always felt that the year 1957 was the pinnacle of The Twentieth Century. Everything before was prelude and it was downhill from there! And anywho I prefer the more integrated air conditioning (same body, no nostrils). (Also, I think I read that they never did any factory 2-tones in ’57. Good for them!)
Mine was built in March, one of the last 200 in the last 2 months of production. In fact, She was built just after my 13th birthday. How appropriate!
Driving her home was quite a thrill. I certainly had no idea at all what it would be like to drive one. I had only very recently even sat in one for the first time. Wonderful. Nothing else to say.
I love the gawkers on the road. I’m amused at how long gas stops take. (Everyone has to come over and talk about her.) At one stop, the station owner/manager wouldn’t let me leave. He wanted Her to stick around as long as possible (and provided free coffee as an incentive). I’ve contemplated hanging a sign around my neck: “Will talk for gas money.”
Heading straight home is just not my style. Never is. There is always a more convoluted alternative. This time I headed Northwest toward Olympia, Washington.
I should note the trip was not without notable incident. Turns out my new love has a drinking problem. Well, actually it’s not her drinking, more like She spills it all over the place. She can’t hold her oil. I got her home dumping in a couple of quarts a day. But we did get home.
In Olympia, I met up with my bride (remember Connie?) who was up visiting our #1 Granddaughter. And together we headed south to deliver my new love to her new home on The West Coast.
Once again, in Grants Pass, we hit a detour. We were a few hours from home. But what’s the rush? We could take a right onto US 199 down the White River Canyon out to The Pacific Coast. What a concept!
Oh yeah, we had another issue. The charging system decided to take a dump. I was in no position to deal with it (especially with a completely unfamiliar old car). So I bought a charger and an extension cord, used electric power expeditiously (the engine itself doesn’t need much), and topped up the battery overnight each night. No big deal.
I was a little anxious at the end of that day, driving after dark through The Humboldt Redwoods for quite a while burning the headlights. (They do use a bunch of juice.) But finally we arrived at one of our favorite waystations on earth, The Benbow Inn, built in 1926 and home to many of the rich and famous through the years (along with, no doubt, many a Mark II). The place was all magnificently decked out for Christmas, and we and She received a mighty welcome.
[Reprise “True Love;” fade to black.]
Fini.
Addendum: My intention was to address the electrical and oil loss issues and then drive Her back up to Washington to our Granddaughter’s wedding. What better role for Her than front and center at a big wedding bash. Sadly, this was not to be. She was up to a trip from St. Louis via Washington to California (4,000 miles) but was not up to the return to Washington. I had been unsuccessful in finding a competent mechanic to deal with the oil, and I also came to realize that She is bereft of any weather seal. It all got removed before some (nice quality) paint job and never replaced. I could not take her up into the PacificNorthWet in the winter like that. I have now found what I hope is the right mechanic. It turns out She is old and tired and needs (and is getting) major engine work. Oh well, I’m thinking that will most certainly hold her for the duration.
(As the saying goes, I think this is where you all came in.)
This is now a contemporary story. Time to go first person.
50 years have passed. It’s the Golden Anniversary year. And what a fine year it is. And as for The Anniversary Celebration? Simply a Tour d’ California on the Harley. South through The Gold Country and into Yosemite. Then across The Big Valley to San Luis Obispo. San Simeon (all these years and we’d never taken the tours!). Big Sur, Carmel, Monterey, Half Moon Bay, thru The City, across The Golden Gate Bridge to Olema, Bodega Bay, Mendocino, Garberville (The Benbow Inn!), then back across the state eastbound to Lake Almanor, Nevada City (now California’s finest Gold Rush Town), and back down The Gold Country “Highway” #49. This could be a leisurely 3 day trip. We took 9. Oh yeah, Highway 49 PLUS Highway 1. Equals? Perfect!
OK, enough about that. Here we are, 50 years in. If at this point (or any time previous) anyone had told me there would be a mid-‘50s car in my future, I wouldn’t have argued. Never assumed it so, but could not rule it out. And I always assumed said car would be either a ’57 Chevy Bel Air or a ’57 T-Bird. Simple as that.
As previously confessed, since 1956 I have had a love of The Continental Mark II. But never in my wildest dreams did I think one could actually enter my life. Whenever I see one on the road, I gawk. I give ‘em a thumbs-up and if we get to a red light I offer a word or 2 of envy.
But somewhere along the way this year, I come to the realization that owning a Mark II could actually be a reality, a real possibility.
And I start to look.
I get a sense of the market. I join the Mark II Forum and begin to learn a little about the subject. (What a great resource.) And occasionally one pops up for sale. Actually, my friend, Spike, who now drops in on The Forum helped me find this one. He spotted one out in St. Louis (2,000 miles away from me). And he called the dealer to explain his friend was looking for a Mark II in decent shape, a “driver” that was up to a cross-country trip to California. I was interested, though I didn’t like the paint scheme, Red and White. My strong feeling is that’s fine for a mid-‘50s T-Bird, but NOT for a stately Mark II. But Spike learned they had just received another one on the lot that was probably a better fit. Pretty nice shape and running fine. And Black (as God intended).
I had a good friend in St. Louis go over and check it out, complete with photos. I hired a local mechanic to give it a good once over. It checked out fine (but had issues – no show stoppers – that he should have picked up). He did fix a few things, most importantly the heater and engine thermostat. And he converted the windshield wipers to an electric drive. While he was doing this, I hopped an eastbound train bound for St. Louis.
Amtrak does ok. It’s not great but neither is it terrible. I took the old Santa Fe Southwest Chief route. The worst thing about it is that Amtrak doesn’t own or maintain the tracks and they are in terrible shape. Really terrible. But nevertheless, it was a fine 3 day excursion, with a sleeping car and decent fare in the dining car.
I arrived in St. Louis, got a chance to visit with my friends there (he who had checked out the Mark II), and took delivery of my new Pride & Joy. I didn’t particularly care if mine was a ’56 or a ’57 though I think ’57 is definitely more “my year.” I have always felt that the year 1957 was the pinnacle of The Twentieth Century. Everything before was prelude and it was downhill from there! And anywho I prefer the more integrated air conditioning (same body, no nostrils). (Also, I think I read that they never did any factory 2-tones in ’57. Good for them!)
Mine was built in March, one of the last 200 in the last 2 months of production. In fact, She was built just after my 13th birthday. How appropriate!
Driving her home was quite a thrill. I certainly had no idea at all what it would be like to drive one. I had only very recently even sat in one for the first time. Wonderful. Nothing else to say.
I love the gawkers on the road. I’m amused at how long gas stops take. (Everyone has to come over and talk about her.) At one stop, the station owner/manager wouldn’t let me leave. He wanted Her to stick around as long as possible (and provided free coffee as an incentive). I’ve contemplated hanging a sign around my neck: “Will talk for gas money.”
Heading straight home is just not my style. Never is. There is always a more convoluted alternative. This time I headed Northwest toward Olympia, Washington.
I should note the trip was not without notable incident. Turns out my new love has a drinking problem. Well, actually it’s not her drinking, more like She spills it all over the place. She can’t hold her oil. I got her home dumping in a couple of quarts a day. But we did get home.
In Olympia, I met up with my bride (remember Connie?) who was up visiting our #1 Granddaughter. And together we headed south to deliver my new love to her new home on The West Coast.
Once again, in Grants Pass, we hit a detour. We were a few hours from home. But what’s the rush? We could take a right onto US 199 down the White River Canyon out to The Pacific Coast. What a concept!
Oh yeah, we had another issue. The charging system decided to take a dump. I was in no position to deal with it (especially with a completely unfamiliar old car). So I bought a charger and an extension cord, used electric power expeditiously (the engine itself doesn’t need much), and topped up the battery overnight each night. No big deal.
I was a little anxious at the end of that day, driving after dark through The Humboldt Redwoods for quite a while burning the headlights. (They do use a bunch of juice.) But finally we arrived at one of our favorite waystations on earth, The Benbow Inn, built in 1926 and home to many of the rich and famous through the years (along with, no doubt, many a Mark II). The place was all magnificently decked out for Christmas, and we and She received a mighty welcome.
[Reprise “True Love;” fade to black.]
Fini.
Addendum: My intention was to address the electrical and oil loss issues and then drive Her back up to Washington to our Granddaughter’s wedding. What better role for Her than front and center at a big wedding bash. Sadly, this was not to be. She was up to a trip from St. Louis via Washington to California (4,000 miles) but was not up to the return to Washington. I had been unsuccessful in finding a competent mechanic to deal with the oil, and I also came to realize that She is bereft of any weather seal. It all got removed before some (nice quality) paint job and never replaced. I could not take her up into the PacificNorthWet in the winter like that. I have now found what I hope is the right mechanic. It turns out She is old and tired and needs (and is getting) major engine work. Oh well, I’m thinking that will most certainly hold her for the duration.