When I was younger it meant the same thing that it does now- I’m looking for cars, and like most teetering on the edge of sixty types, I’m looking for the cars of my youth, which in my case weren’t the obnoxiously omnipresent tri-fives of Boomer car show infamy:

No, I was never a fan of the mid-century car for the masses, my tastes running more to the glorious land yachts that were manufactured by Grand American Brands like Cadillac, Lincoln, or Imperial, brands that have changed so much now as to be meaningless, simply another name in a corporate lineup.

I liked Fiats. I lusted after Alfas. My uncle’s Datsun Z-cars were another introduction to the world of attainable, exotic machines with sporting pretensions, a close, dark comfortable cocoon of speed so dissimilar to the ’69 Z-28 Camaro or ’55 Chevrolet 210 sedan that another uncle favored. I liked the idea of the ability to carry speed through corners as opposed to raw acceleration and little else.

I don’t know how I arrived at tastes antipodal to those of my immediate relations, but I suspect a latent gene, an odd flip of the taste switch that led me to favor modes of transport/entertainment that were eccentric as far as the conventional tastes of the time were.

So to the looking: As I’d written about before, Craigslist was my go-to for things Italian and cheap. It’d been a while , so I clicked on over to the place and entered the parameters- 250 miles away, $1 to 15k range for price and finally, Alfa Romeo.

Here’s what landed:

10.5 K for a fixer-upper. This would have been maybe half that five years back. 7K tops. I copied the ad text:

1969 Alfa Romeo Duetto 1750 Spyder convertible, needs floor patches, rockers, I have all new metal replacement panels in box, clean title on non op, car needs restoration, and is not running, stored inside since early 90’s, have a stack of receipts and records, receipts include motor rebuild, trans rebuild for trans, etc,$10500,

All I can think of is this is a 50k car, easily. Payable over time, only 10,500 starts your journey.

Typing in Fiat brought this, after scrolling through the ubiquitous Nuova 500s:

This particular rust heap is available in Monterey, Ca, at a place that specializes in interesting old crocks scoured from the nearby hills and valleys. Need an oddball car? Go to Monterey.

$500.00 is also a lot less expensive than 10.5 k, and while Alfa parts are available, so are Fiat parts, as long as you know where to look. Maybe 20K tops. Far cry from 50k.

But is it worth it to me? I’m finding as I approach my sixties, I’m more interested in writing about cars and maybe redeveloping my drawing hand that I’ve let lay fallow too long, a result of nagging perfectionism that told me to lay my pencils down when I was in my 20’s, because I perceived myself as no good as far as drawing went, when it turns out that I was at a point in my development where instruction would’ve improved things.

Say I bought the Fiat. My temptation would be to make something else out of it, using the engine and transmission to build something akin to an Abarth 1000 Bialbero, or an OTAS . The downside is that in the last forty or so years since I earned my driver’s license traffic has become busier , faster and unforgiving and these cool microcars are quite unsafe in these modern flows, and if I were to build something, I’d want to use it everywhere.

I looked at a Datsun/Nissan or two, but my interest in traveling down memory lane was waning, as was my desire for the acquisition of a project. These trips down memory lane keep me here in the present, and somewhat focused and appreciative of how good the cars are nowadays.

I say “Somewhat” because every now and again, something strikes my fancy…

• I’m now at the point in my life where all of the cars that were considered mundane are now celebrated, and rightfully so. The 90s, in addition to marking the end of the Malaise Era, ushered in a period of fun, both in design and color. Here’s Ethan Tufts at Radwood, a celebration of the cars that I grew up with.
• The odder, the better. The simpler, the better. While many my age had posters of a Countach on the walls of their bedrooms, my tastes gravitated to AJS 350s, Lotus 7 and sundry etceterini and Fiats.

• If I see your driveway full of German cars, especially BMW or Mercedes, I’m going to assume you’ve more money than sense and a masochistic streak a mile wide. I come by this opinion from experience. Double that for Audi.
• If the German crocks are from the 70s to the early 80s, I’ll reconsider. You’ve still got to be a decent human- cars aren’t a personality.
• If your Audi looks like this:

• AJS were pretty hard to come by, even in Sacramento, where Things Exotic and Odd are squirreled away in nearly every garage, so I lusted after a Yamaha SR500, a big single of half-liter displacement.

• Despite my desire for an Asian repop of a Brit big single, I wound up with what was arguably the first superbike:

• I rode for a couple of years, then came to the realization that I am a better driver than I was a rider and sold the Kawasaki. I haven’t had any pangs of regret.
• LJK Setright was a motoring writer of unparalleled erudition, knowledge and style, both in prose as well as sartorially. I wish to nominate Matthew B Crawford as a successor. From his debut Shop Class As Soulcraft, to his second book, World Beyond Your Head, to his latest, Why We Drive, Crawford, like Setright makes a case for individual freedoms supported by responsibility, taking a dim view of many of the mechanisms employed by government to control the driving public. Like Setright, Crawford loves speed, both on four wheels as well as two, but I’m thinking that Dresda-framed CB-X as well as Bristol cars aren’t quite Crawford’s cuppa, but I imagine he’d like a go. Still, dressing like this is entirely too fussy for the average American:

• The Chevy Vega could have been world- class, given more development. The Cosworth- Vega was a good start, but too little, too late comes to mind.
• The Hachi Roku Corolla GT-S was the spiritual descendant of the Cosworth Vega. Drive it, and you’ll understand what Chevrolet’s ill-starred car could have been.
• The Celica Supra, MK2 P-Type was the successor to the E-Type. Fight me.

• This semi- useful article brought to you by Sunday, strong ale and ennui.

2022. It’s surreal, living 22 years into the 21st century, everything literally changing around you and as you look at it. We spent the day at home and abed, getting up in the late afternoon to do a couple of chores and flirt with the idea of driving somewhere before the Winter sun set at 1630 hours or so. We didn’t, having a dinner of baked ziti and salad, the ziti kindly provided by our friends across the street, Jenny and I sending them home with the empty container of persimmon cookies that was brought over a couple of days prior and a half-dozen tamales that I’d bought from a woman who was selling them from a truck in the parking lot of the Smart & Final that we were getting the food for the evening’s festivities at. Us and the remainder of Rancho Cordova, apparently.

Dinner was at the Craine’s, where we’ve done our socializing for the last few years now. Spacious and tidy with a very modern kitchen, two boxer dogs and a spacious back yard where Scott can puff his cigars to his heart’s content while we bench race, it’s a gracious spot for all six of us.

Last night while Scotty held forth about fantasy garages full of Singers or Gunther Werk 911’s, Matt tossed out an interesting question: “Price no object, same with maintenance costs, what would you drive if you had to daily it?”

Scott and I both fell silent in thought for a moment, Scott alternating between a 911 and Audis of various sorts before settling on an RS6 Avant, wincing at the cost of tire replacement every 4k miles. Matt stayed with his Ford E-350 van, the one parked in his drive, citing its ability to carry two derpy yet adorable boxers and his time in the car’s chair- He’s had it for over a decade. I first said my G37S, but then moved to a Lexus LS Hybrid- Spacious, quick enough and room for 4 galoot sized humans. After a certain age, which I’ve passed about five years ago, it becomes more about comfort than speed.

We also touched on electric cars over the course of the night, me realizing that another component of aging is not going too many places because your in-laws house has sold, your parents are either dead or living in another country and there’s still a pandemic going on, though it appears that the virus will become endemic, like a few other things and our normal will readjust itself, never going back to the before times and maybe an electric car /hybrid two car garage is a very good solution for these changing times.

There’s a new world here, and no one has the correct answers anymore. We’re figuring it out as we go along.

Have a good year, I’ll see you very soon.

Jenny wished she had stopped by the grocer to grab a Heinz product of any sort, since 57. I can’t say that I’m in disbelief- more like a quiet amusement at the number and where I am, and plotting where I want to be at 58.

I was awake at 6 A.M., excited to see what Gran Turismo would gift me. Honestly, this is the only gift I expect, for I truly dislike a fuss being made over me, very much like my father in that respect. This cost nothing, in effort or expense.

I may have done a lap or two around the ‘Ring, and repaired back to the sack because I could.

Second wakies, I thought that it’d be nice to head on over to the California Automobile Museum and see what was being shown- after bopping biscuit, our youngest foundling cat, a spry eight years old.

I was very pleased to see that an exhibit of Japanese cars held the entry. I’d heard about it a few months earlier, in a somewhat…no, very dismissive tone when I asked a docent what the next exhibit would be at the fathers’ day drive in June. I asked of his age and he responded with a figure in the late 60’s. I countered with the fact that I was excited because these are the cars that I had grown up among, like the tri5’s and other large American stuff that he could get six for a dime at a junkyard.

He walked off, maybe thinking about what I’d said, and I’m returning us to the present with this shot of the exhibit as we walked in-

I thrilled at the display, meager in my opinion, of significant Japanese cars from the major manufacturers of Japan. From this point, I saw Nissan, Toyota, Subaru, and Honda. Getting closer, we see:

The Toyota Sport 800. Without this jewel, no 2000 GT, no Supra, no Celica; just boring reliable transportation appliances from The Big T. This was the first sports car from Toyota, opening up a new line for the fledgling company founded in 1937.

There was a Mitsubishi in the display, a Unicorn- The 3000GT Spyder VR4; a car truly ahead of its time.

Debuting in 1990, the Mitsu was so far ahead of its time, never mind stupidly expensive, that the take was a bit low. I think I saw only one at the service station I worked at in Eastern Sacramento, at Bradshaw road and 50 and that was at an unspeakably early hour of the morning. On a Sunday, seeping over from the Saturday. The woman who drove it caned it a bit onto Eastbound 50, me entranced by the sound of that V-6 and the way that the red coupe hurtled into the night. Yeah, I was a bit envious.

When I first saw the Subaru SVX, my then conventional brain didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Like the Mitsubishi, these cars weren’t widely accepted but I think more because of the unconventional Giugiaro styling and no manual option for the transmission. I really didn’t become a fan of Japanese autoboxes until my 94 Mazda Protege LX, a hotrod that could give the Rabbit GTI of the Era a good run. Anyway, I didn’t think much of the SVX, or Alcyone until I asked a certain M. Swig what he was driving on the morning of 1 Jan 2011- He pointed his out:

We now know that Subaru, like most Japanese makers are to be disregarded at your peril.

There’s a 360 lurking there as well, an O.G. Kei car with a 356 CC two stroke engine and a whopping three gears- Hey, it was enough to get one around, and cheaply.

Behind the 360 is a game changer of no small import- The Lexus (Toyota) LS 400.

To me, the LS 400 is very much like the Sport 800- a car that defined a line of vehicles for Toyota, demonstrating to the world that one could have world-class luxury and reliability that put the Europeans on notice.

And notice they did. Mercedes built the 400E in direct response to Toyota’s shot, but it was still a Mercedes and still subject to a rigorous maintenance schedule that the car’s warranty depended on. I had a 400E. A good car but not so good that I needed to keep it; it left as soon as I could afford something else. Here’s my old crock:

Yes, the replacement is Japanese- an Infiniti G37S; it was what I was looking for when I bought the Benz.

Moving around, there’s a Honda(Acura)NSX, a supercar that has gone over 400.000 miles without major anything. Let’s see yer Ferrari, Lambo, Bimmer or other status bucket do the same. Don’t believe me?

There are Miatae, as well as a Skyline but they hold only transitory interest for me.

A lovely Mister two and an Acura (Honda) Integra are there, but we know how good these cars still are, so I won’t go much into them.

Wandering through the usual collection, I snap photos of my favorites, like the home made R.V. built on a Cadillac chassis, or Tony Hogg’s Cobra:

Walking past the Motorhome, I see a car that I’d seen forlorn behind a fence:

It was the Cressida, brought in from the elements and treated to a battery charge and some needed attention.

I snapped this pic, and noticed also an Isuzu Impulse deeper in the shadow of the theater. Common cars when I was a young man, but pretty rare now.

Going around I saw the evergreen GM EV-1 that the Museum has had for ages, the doorstop shaped non-operational green Countach that (maybe) belonged to Malcom Forbes, but still had a busted something or another, making it the Perfect Italian Paperweight, and other things.

After speaking with a new docent for a while, my knees were shrieking, so I went to sit down and rest a few, after which I wandered up to the front to see what goodies were for sale at the magazine racks.

Goodies were definitely had, but more importantly, I made the acquaintance of the young man who sold us the tickets when we arrived.

Going through the price tags of the magazines and books, we happened upon an ad for the first gen Celica Supra. We all oohed and awwed and I was asked if I’d seen the Cressida, since same powertrain.

I had and he asked if I’d like to see it closer. I wasn’t gonna turn that down…

He’d brought an Eagles cassette to test the stereo and said that it still worked. He expressed dismay at the attitude of some of the older members of the staff, regarding the Cressida as just another piece of junk, and I shared that lament with him, coming hard up against what many in the lifestyle decry as gatekeeping, or worse.

I’ll say it now, and I’ll keep saying it- There Is No Correct Car. There is simply the car you like, and you’re not wrong for liking it. We gravitate to the cars that have had an impact in our lives, and for me it began with an MG-TF that my Godfather owned and used to drive to work in the fields of Delano, Ca. I crawled into the car as an oversized 12 year-old and marveled at the starkness, the simplicity. Later there was my uncle and his ’55 Bel-Air, followed by a 210 and then Road and Track and Jenks and D.E.D.jr, and Purdy and…

“What about the Isuzu?” I asked, nodding towards the Impulse

“You’ll love this” he said as we walked over. “The owner had it in storage and pulled the gas tank. Drained it, and pulled it.”

He raised the hatch, and there it was. Dang. The last time I saw that, I was punching holes into them and sinking them into heated solvent tanks. I marveled at how clean the Isuzu had been kept and clicked a few more shots:

I lamented that we never get the cool twin cam engines here for these cars- the 200SX  also comes to mind, and how these Malaise era cars will make someone very happy.

He handed me his card and I tucked it into my wallet, bidding him well and heading off to Alaro brewhouse for lunch and a beer, followed later by dinner at Mattone and dessert and gifts at the Craines, where tiny hats were stacked upon my head. Look:

Port and coffee were had, then away to home at midnight. A good weekend.

There’s a restaurant close to the house that has a pretty good selection of beers and a solid, basic menu of burgers and a few salads. Jenny and I will head over when we don’t feel like cooking or when she’s in a burger space.

We wound up at Dukes last night and long/short, I left my wallet behind, discovering this as we were both leaving for work. I three- pointed back to the house, lowering my window and telling her that the most vital thing was missing and I was heading back to find it. A half hour later, I’d called off and I was in a foul mood, unable to find the wretched thing, the only possibility being I left it behind at Dukes. I called the place and left a message, telling myself that I’d head over if no call back.

I was there at eleven, walking into the place past the hachi parked in front of the door. The kid behind the bar asked what I was drinking and I told him I was here to check after my wallet. He walked to the office to check, but it was still locked. “She’ll be here soon”.

I took a barstool, knowing I wouldn’t be going in today, the majority of work doable from home. I started with a golden milk stout from Faction. I asked how it was and the kid, allowed that while he doesn’t drink, people say it’s good, followed by a masked nod that reminded me very much of a character in an Anime. I smiled and told the kid that he reminded me of such with that waggle, and was the hachi his?

While it started life as a normal 86, he’d done an engine transplant, stuffing a five-valve into it and learning a lot as he went along, very much like the generations of gearheads before him.

I pulled up a picture of my old MK2 Celica Supra and showed it to him and then we found ourselves talking about the origin of the Supra nameplate and how it originated with the Celica, which he was completely unaware of- not the Celica itself, but how the Supra came to be. Not sprung fully formed as from a God’s forehead, but the subject of development and refinement that terminated in the MK4 Supra. Afaic, the MK5 is a BMW. No Yamaha involvement? No Toyota.

The talk turned to auto industries and what other nations had manufactured cars- he was very definitely aware of Japan and Germany and of course, the U.S., but had no clue that Britain was once a leading manufacturer, that France has always made delightfully oddball cars and that India has a motor industry all its own.

Jaray and Ledwinka got mentions from me for the influence they both had on modern auto design, why the Corvair was ultimately unsuccessful and how Ferrari and Lamborghini had a spat that resulted in Ferrucio making his own car.

“Spite cars”! J. chortled, walking an order from the window to a table, returning to the bar, wondering where we left off.

During the pauses when J. was helping customers,  I wondered at the lack of knowledge that he had regarding the span of automotive history. What I found very cool was that he was genuinely curious and wanted to fill those gaps with stories and facts regarding our shared passion and I was more than happy to share my knowledge with him, and he’d inspired me to continue writing and posting in this blog, sharing things that are common knowledge for my generation but not well known to our successors.

The rush, and his shift was winding down. As he was tipping out, I asked to see his install before he left.

He was a bit shy for it, fearful of criticism, but I saw a pretty clean install, like so many of our early installations, propelled by enthusiasm and whatever was around.

“Looks like you’re saving weight” I said, gesturing to the tiny AGM battery that was in the tray normally occupied by a 35. He nodded, remembering his joking about keeping the car empty of gas for lightness. I concluded our visit, walking inside to my beer and a quieter restaurant and resolving to make this blog a livelier place.

Thanks, J. It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance and I’m hopeful that my content will help expand your enthusiasm.

I looked at my last published entry here, and it was in March. A lot has happened since then, but not just to me- the whole world is reeling from 2020. So I did what any sensible person who stress eats would do:

In my little corner of the Universe, upheavals were the order of the day. I may have had a mild version of The Plague in March, I fractured the distal tip of my left thumb by putting it where it shouldn’t have been during a tire change in July, California went up in flames in August, and Pops went to join the Choir Celestial in September. There was also my mother-in-law, who is already in a facility catching The Plague and needing ICU care, then specialized care, finally returning to the memory care side of the facility closest to us just this last Saturday.

Been a touch overwhelming, really.

The Mercedes is doing quite well, and I’m thinking of my next car. Always wanted an SL, if even for a short while. Strangely, prices for these big ol’panzers have stayed pretty quiet, while the Japanese duo of S2k and Miata have seen prices go through the roof. I’ll definitely know more about when and what next year re SL. If it is an SL, I’m leaning seriously towards an R129 with an R230 as a second. I guess I’m an enthusiast for the work of Bruno Sacco. I’m considering keeping the 400E as well, because as my wife so rightly opined: “Keeping a car is easier than buying another one”. In these covid times, doubly so. Besides, the 400 is an inexpensive hotrod, and a very durable one at that- and I’m getting quite tired of letting interesting cars go too soon. I did that with my mk2 Supra, and I still regret that.

On the literary side, I’m going to review not only past issues of Buff Books, but other literature that relates to cars, even peripherally- Food, Supermarkets, Restaurants, Department Stores; all of those things that the automobile is an integral part of, and a contributor to.

Election day is tomorrow. Vote, if you already haven’t. I’ll see you soon.

I’m 55. I got my license a bit late at seventeen, where my peers had theirs at sixteen- it was more a function of where my family lived, in the central part of Elk Grove, Ca, close to all three of the schools. The elementary, jr. high, and high schools were all about a fifteen minute walk from the house, and our folks strongly encouraged us to do just that, or bike. It was 1981 when I successfully parallel parked the family’s Dodge Monaco wagon along a curb in Galt, earning my driver’s license. First attempt. One error.

1981 was also toward the end of the Malaise Era, a term coined by gearhead scribe, junkyard photographer, LeMons judge, etc, Murrilee Martin. He defined it as the decade from 1973- 1983, or when, as Martin puts it in the above linked Editorial/rant: “I say it extends from the year of 5 MPH crash bumpers to the year the Fox Mustang became properly quick, and that’s that!” (although the FB group extends it to 1995, which brings more cars under the rubric, but it’s Martin’s term.)

That’s not to say there weren’t some interesting and fun cars through that period. During this time of retrenchment, research and engineering, and simple risk taking we received such glories as The Chevy Cosworth Vega, an example of which I owned, briefly. The Porsche 928, an underrated Grand Touring machine that was introduced in 1978 and ran until 1995. The Buick Grand National, a now-legendary machine that has late boomers like myself and gen Xers drooling, and commands prices from the mid teens at least- whenever one shows up for auction.

But those were exceptions, and pricey ones for the time. More common were the uninspiring, sad cars like the Ford Granada that ol’Murrilee wrote his editorial/rant around. Surprised by the Arab Oil Embargo of 1973, and the nearly immediate dive of the American driver to more efficient vehicles, as well as tightening fuel economy and emissions standards, it took Detroit that amount of time to finally get their game face on.

Technology pulled us out of that period. With very simple computerized fuel injection systems at first, gradually evolving through OBD (on board diagnostic) series 1, to the current OBD 2, every aspect of the car’s powertrain is monitored and adjusted many times a second to ensure efficient operation. Modern computer control also makes it easier to make old (Malaise Era) machines more reliable and efficient with an engine transplant. Roadkill, a show sponsored by Motor Trend magazine, did a retrospective of some of the land yachts that were produced during that time, with an eye towards a restomod– taking a very distinctive shape and swapping in excruciatingly modern engines and support systems with an eye towards making these motels on wheels better than new.

I don’t lament the passing of the Malaise Era. The cars were mostly dreadful- slow, thirsty and ponderous. But without it, we wouldn’t have 700 horsepower cars that can be bought off of the showroom floor, if you have the dollars and lack of judgement needed. Or you can restomod. Here’s Lucky Costa and Tony Angelo from Hot Rod Garage, feeding their Caddy some road. Watch the episode, it’s a hoot.