Mommycar meets Christmas Tree

You've read about my fondness for the 1935 Ford, the car my parents had when I was born, and how I'd like to have one some day. I'm pleased to report that the day has come, in a modest sort of way.

This past October my cousin Suzy (center, between my sister Rosemary and wife Jill) came to visit us. Suzy and I are second cousins - our grandmothers were sisters - and she wanted to visit the family home town in New Jersey. We made a brief trip to Morristown, where I was born, stopping at Acorn Hall, headquarters and museum of the Morris County Historical Society, to which she had given several family heirlooms.

As we prepared to leave the museum, we made a quick stop in the gift shop. A small ornament on a table caught my eye: it was in the form of a 1935 Ford Deluxe Fordor Sedan, but for color identical to our old car (which I now think must have been a Deluxe, rather than Standard, model). It was priced at a modest $5.00 and there was only one, so I quickly bought it.

On closer examination I found it was a hanging ornament, and a box behind it held a cache of small plastic cars. The small cars were interesting but not exceptional, unlike the Ford on the box top, which was a serendipitous masterpiece.

We trim our tree on Christmas Eve, and it stays up the full twelve days of the season. Most of the ornaments are home made, many by our children, and the rest have a special significance, like the old car given me by a student many years ago when I was teaching Sunday School. The modern version of Mommycar, certainly, has special significance to me, so it has joined our collection of Yuletide treasures.

On Monday, the CarPort will begin its fifth year of operation. I'd like to thank all those who have contributed stories and photos, and all of you who visit on a regular basis. I never cease to be amazed at the reach of the CarPort. Just last week I heard from João in Brazil who emailed that "your site is fantastic!" Thanks, João, and I hope you continue to enjoy it for years to come.

Bad News Comes at Christmas

It comes as no surprise that the Big Three are extending their holiday plant shutdowns this year. The great industrial drama has been playing on the news for some time now, the players dancing around bankruptcy and government mulling a rescue plan. Although the times and situations are very different, one can't help remembering the December forty-five years ago when Studebaker announced the closing of its plants in South Bend, Indiana.

Studebaker was South Bend. Generations of families had worked in the plants, from the days of Conestoga wagons to the first electric cars to Big Sixes and Presidents and Commanders and and Starliners. Then on December 9, 1963, shortly after production of the 1964 models began, came the announcement. Production of cars and station wagons would move to Canada, and the Hawks and the striking new Avanti would be dropped. As a third-generation Studebaker worked once told me, "Bad news always came at Christmas." He had just returned from the Army and followed in the footsteps of his father and grandfather working at South Bend's largest employer. Then, in an instant, he was joining the ranks of the unemployed.

In the industry there were great hopes that a leaner, more efficient Studebaker could prove viable at a plant in Hamilton, Ontario. The foundries at South Bend had been shuttered and there were none at Hamilton, so engines were sourced from Chevrolet. A substantial line of passenger cars was offered, including the innovative Wagonaire and a Daytona series of upscale cars. In the end, it was all for naught, as the last Studebaker, a Cruiser four-door sedan, left the lines on March 16, 1966. Fewer than 9,000 cars had been produced for the model year.

There's no reason to believe the Studebaker model serves as a crystal ball for the American automobile industry, that Big Three factories will never reopen. We could just as easily cite the so-called "Chrysler bailout" of 1979. In that case, government-backed loans enabled Chrysler Corporation to stay afloat and regroup. The taxpayers got their money back and then some, because the Mopar folks had a couple of hit products, the incredibly useful minivan and a trendy line of trucks. Even if the Big Three are exiled into bankruptcy and meet their demise it will not spell the end of the American auto industry. Foreign-owned plants, mostly in the South, will continue to build cars - very soon we expect to be driving one. Regardless of what happens in Detroit, some remnant of General Motors will probably still be building Buicks in China for many years to come. It is safe to say, however, that the American auto industry we knew will look quite different before 2009 is over.

Meeting Standards

A few months ago, I said I remember "Mommycar," my mother's 1935 Ford, as a Standard model. I'm beginning to doubt my recollections, as Standards came with one taillight and the only photo I can find clearly shows two. Of course, some items standard on the Deluxe model, like the second taillight and second horn, could be ordered as options or fitted by a dealer. We don't have a frontal view, so we can't tell if the car had the chrome grille and windshield moulding of the Deluxe or painted style of the Standard.

Ford's model distinctions in the mid-1930s were subtle. In 1934, the Deluxe customer got a better interior, additional brightwork, a second horn and taillight, cowl lamps and body color fenders. The differences were similar in 1935, bright versus black and two taillights in place of one. This held true in 1936 as well, but the horns were now hidden behind round fender grilles, obscuring an identity clue. Standard cars were available only in closed body styles.

For 1937, too, painted versus bright grilles and windshield mouldings were the only tell-tales from the front, though the new small V8-60 engine was available in the Standard model. The following year, however, Ford made it plain what Deluxe customers got for their money - an attractive new nose with heart-shaped grille. Buyers of the Standard received a warmed-over 1937 nose, though the effect, if old, was not unattractive. In turn, the 1939 Standard Ford was based on the '38 Deluxe, while the new Deluxe had entirely new front sheet metal.

Sealed beam headlights were the new feature for 1940, and both series had them. The Deluxe accented them with bold chrome rims and a new grille, while the Standard was given to body color trim and a variation on the '39 Deluxe grille. This was the final year for the V8-60.

For 1941, new bodies and chassis put an end to separate sheet metal for the series, of which there were now three. What had been Deluxe was now Super Deluxe, with appropriate brightwork, while Standard became Deluxe, with painted side grilles and windshield mouldings. A six-cylinder engine supplanted the small V8, and there was an economy Special series offered in three body styles in one color choice (Harbor Gray) and the six-cylinder engine. A similar lineup was offered for the abbreviated 1942 model year.

After the war, there were two series, of varying names, until 1952 when upscale models were put into a new Crestline series. Never again, however, did Ford offer different different sheet metal for different series until the compact Falcon of 1960.

Running Interference

For more than thirty years the Fosters have driven old cars, exclusively. At one time we'd buy well-kept 16 or 17-year-old vehicles. These days we like our creature comforts and a bit of luxury so the cars are some eight years old when they come to us, with about 100,000 miles. I'm fond of saying we put on the second hundred thousand.

And so it was when Jill's 230,000 mile Peugeot shredded its driveshaft in June of 2005 we went looking for its successor. After driving a Saab and a Suburu, both of which were atrocious, we happened upon an eight-year-old Mazda Millenia with 106,000 miles. She made a deal and bought it.

The Millenia, you may remember, was designed to launch Mazda's luxury brand Amati, to challenge Acura, Infiniti and Lexus. By the time it was ready, however, Mazda had decided that a new dealer network would be too costly, so the car was rebadged to sell as a Mazda, effectively replacing the 929 as the flagship model.

Introduced in the summer of 1994 as '95 model, the oddly-spelled Millenia targeted Acura's Legend, the Infiniti J30 and Lexus ES300. Priced $6,000 below the cheapest of them it seemed an incredible bargain, loaded as it was with heated leather and mirrors, traction control and a power-tilt steering wheel (with memory). For an extra six grand you could get a supercharged and intercooled Miller-cycle 2.3 liter V6, the first such powerplant on the US market, The base engine was Mazda's four-valve normally-aspirated KL-ZE 2.5 liter V6, used also in the 626, MX-6 and Ford Probe.

Best of all, both Jill and I found it very attractive, commodious and comfortable. The roof worshiped both sun and moon, and the heated seats would roast your buns off. One thing the Millenia didn't do was sell lots of cars. While Lexus sold about 40,000 ES300s, and the Acura and Infiniti equivalents about half that, Millenia sales were underwhelming. Thus, its resale value at eight years old was pretty puny. We drove away with what seemed like an incredibly good deal.

To be sure, the car soon needed repairs, struts front and rear and two new tires. Since we had no service history it also got a new timing belt and water pump, just in case. I soon tired of driving it. Handling was so-so and the 2.5 liter engine proved a bit puny for the 3,200-pound car. Jill liked it, but found the rearward visibility entirely unsatisfactory for someone of her height.

Ten thousand miles later, however, the new tensioner for the new timing belt let go. Fortunately we got it into the shop before any lasting damage was done. The Millenia engine is an "interference" design. When it's working properly it doesn't interfere with anything, but if it should lose time or break a timing belt the four camshafts will send the 24 tiny valves crashing into the pistons. For an older car, repair will cost more than the vehicle is worth.

Two weeks ago, Jill came home from a business trip. It was 1:00 AM and pouring with rain. She'd lost her cell phone at the airport. She put the car away and told me it had suddenly lost power about five miles from home, so she limped it on to her destination. The next day I tried to diagnose the malady. As soon as I started it up, I heard heavy metal. Somehow or other it had jumped time and the engine was running interference. We didn't figure out exactly what had failed, and by that time it didn't matter.

Some you win, some you lose. The car gave us 3-1/2 years, though barely 22,000 miles. On the grand scale of things, it was probably not a bad investment - the depreciation alone on a new car would have dwarfed our outlay over the same period. Still, it was a hard pill to take $200 from the dismantler (they've gone upscale - their license plates used to read "JUNK") and watch the car being hooked up and towed away.

There's a bright side. Its replacement was already being planned. Jill just has to wait a month until it's ready.