Vive la Compiègne

Sometimes the most enjoyable museums are where you least expect them. Nashville's Lane Motor Museum, for example, hides in a former bakery in the Music City. Another of my favorites is Musée National de la Voiture et du Tourisme at Château de Compiègne, about 45 minutes north of Paris by train.

The Musée is not a car museum, per se, as the larger part of its collection comprises 18th and 19th Century carriages and bicycles. The cars number about thirty, but what sets them apart is a collection assembled in 1927, about a third of which are 19th Century cars. They are, not surprisingly, French, and all the pioneer makes like Panhard-Levassor, Gobron-Brillie, Bollée, Delahaye and Georges-Richard are represented. Taking pride of place is La Jaimais Contente (Never Satisfied), the electric racer in which Camille Jenatzy set the world's land speed record in 1899. There's a whole room dedicated to the vehicles of Count Albert DeDion, tricycles, quadricycles, vis à vis and cabriolets. Louis Renault's first car was the 1898 Type A. His company has one, a replica, but Compiègne has a real one, unrestored, and also a 1900 Type C coupe, one of the world's first closed cars.

From the 20th Century we found a 1904 Clement Bayard, 1907 Reyrol and at the entrance the 1916 Sigma Torpédo of World War I ace Georges Guynemer. Away from the visitors' areas we were shown a 1908 Hotchkiss Double Coupé, a 1905 Krieger Landaulet Electrique with electric front-wheel drive, and a Citroën Auto-Chenille. Most amazing is the immense steam carriage built in 1882 by Amedée Bollée. With opulent interior and a crow's nest it was just the thing for a wealthy Frenchman to drive to the railroad station.

Hiding in a corner was an odd little electric van, one of the last automotive projects of Jean-Albert Grégoire. A final irony, on our way out, was discovery of a drain cover from Pont à Mousson, whose automotive heritage includes transmissions for Facel Vega.

Letting Go

I got involved with Hudsons by accident. In the spring of 1974, a friend of a friend showed me a 1939 Hudson that needed rescuing from the woods. It was straight, but the rear window had fallen in, ruining the interior, and the engine had been sitting without spark plugs. However, the crankshaft turned and the floor was sound. $150 later it was mine.

I had bought myself a 1939 Hudson Six, Model 92, a mid-priced sedan. I set out to restore it, and commenced to take the body off. A couple of years later I realized it would be a long time before I could drive it, so we bought Angus, our 1925 Hudson Brougham, in order to have an operable old car. Two decades later all I had of the '39 was a restored chassis, primed fenders, an engine still apart and a body that needed everything. I decided to sell it. That part was fairly easy,considering that it was a basket case. It had to be partially reassembled to move to its new home, and Victor, the new owner, and my son Edward helped get it ready to travel. Once loaded we made an easy trip to East Haven, about 50 miles to the west.

Victor told me he was going to restore the car, and drive over so I could see it. "Sure," I thought. "He won't have much more luck than I did." O me of little faith! One evening three summers later, Jill and I had gone to a movie. When we returned, our daughter Harriet said "You had a visitor. He said he was sorry to miss you."

"Who?" I asked. "Victor," she replied, "and the Hudson." Fortunately she had her camera at the ready. Victor hadn't restored it exactly, but the car was operable. It was also loaded to the gunwales, with flags flying. He had sold his house in East Haven, loaded all his earthly belongings into the car and a trailer, put his boat on the roof and scooped up his cat. They were all headed to New Mexico. I hope they made it.

Rekord Breaker

Many moons ago we told you about the Vauxhall imported by GM to sell through Pontiac dealers in the recession-wracked late '50s. As we hinted, there was a similar program at Buick, where the Olympia Rekord, from GM's German subsidiary Adam Open AG, was sold as a captive import. If the Vauxhall was important for Pontiac, the Opel was even more so for Buick, whose bejewelled behemoths were clogging dealer lots.

Slightly larger than the Vauxhall, the Opel Rekord was in the American idom, with a slab-sided body, wrap-around windshield and bench seats. Transmission choice was limited to a three-speed column-shifted unit. Also available was a Caravan station wagon. Opel's six-cylinder Kapitan model, which seems more like a bargain Buick, was, for some reason, never regularly imported.

After Buick introduced the intermediate Special for 1961, Opel popularity waned. For one thing the Special, available as sedan or wagon, offered four doors. For another, an aluminum V8 was standard, with automatic transmission optional and popular. A new Rekord was briefly offered in 1962 before imports ceased.

But, unlike Vauxhall, Opel was not down for the count as far as the USA was concerned. In 1964, the new Kadett model reached our shores. For 1969 it was joined by the Opel GT, an attractive coupe that still has a substantial following. Sales of successive Opel models continued through 1975.

But still that wasn't the end. For 1976, GM went Japanese for its Buick captive import. The Opel by Isuzu, basically an Isuzu Gemini, was brought to our shores in April 1976. Sales were sluggish, and GM tried to put a better face on it with Buick Opel badges, but customers weren't fooled. Imports of Isuzus continued, but the Buick badge was abandoned after 1979. Opel's best American year was 1959, with nearly 40,000 cars sold. It was the fourth place import that year, behind Volkswagen, Renault and English Ford.

Does anyone collect Opels in America? Precious few, it seems. It's all too easy to find derelict Rekords languishing in the woods.

Weird and Wonderful

If Detroit, the Motor City, can boast the Motown Sound, why can't Nashville, Music City USA, have a car museum? Happily it does, and has since 2002 when Susan and Jeff Lane opened the Lane Motor Museum. Touting "Unique Cars from A to Z," it has marques from the British ABC to German Zundapp and misses only a few in between, though most of them are not exactly unique, as in one-off.

Housed in a former Sunbeam bread bakery, their 40,000 square foot museum is big on eastern European marques, including some 13 Tatras, made in the former Czechoslovakia. Other Czech makes include Skoda, Aero and Jawa; Germans are represented by Auto Union, Goliath and Hanomag, as well as the renowned Trabant from east of The Wall, while the ABC's fellow countrymen include a pair of BSA three-wheelers and the tiny Peel P50 and Trident, both made on the Isle of Man.

French dressing appears in the form of multitudinous Citroëns, a Panhard Dynamic with center-drive steering, and a Renault Dauphine and its electric clone, the Henney Kilowatt. Kilowatts were converted in the US by the makers of Eureka vacuum cleaners. Another electric was the Peugeot VLV, a World War II alternative-power vehicle.

There's a generous contingent of Nissan products, most on loan from Nissan USA, which is headquartered nearby. The retro-looking Figaro is actually from 1991 and sold only in Japan, though the model has since become trendy in Britain.

From the USA come the three-wheel Davis, William Hewson's one-off streamlined 1946 Rocket, and a McQuay-Norris Steamliner that Jeff and Susan drove in the 2005 Great American Race. Three of James V. Martin's cars are present, the 1928 Aerodynamic, said to have been built for Billy Mitchell, and the 1932 Martinette (right) and 1950 Stationette. Stranger still is the Gasporter, an airport tanker built on Crosley running gear that is driven standing up. In 1947, designer Ben Gregory came up with a rear-engine coupe using front-wheel drive. This, too, is a one-off. Have you ever seen a Towne Shopper, one of the multitudinous postwar minicars? I hadn't until I visited this museum.

Taking the term "self-propelled" to its limits are two aircraft-inspired machines, the 1932 Helicron from France and the "Wind Wagon," a home-brew contraption built by the late Ted Jameson, uncle of racing driver-turned motor sports commentator Sam Posey.

To be sure, Nashville's Country Music Hall of Fame, with the Grand Ole Opry the city's major attraction, also has some cars: Elvis's Gold Cadillac and the Pontiac Bonneville of Webb Pierce, the latter with an over-and-under trunk ornament and six-gun door handles. Perhaps more to the point is Hank Williams' liquor cabinet. Country music is fun, but I'd rather spend my quality time at the Lane Motor Museum. The cars you see here are just the tip of the iceberg. The museum is open Thursday through Monday, from 10 to 5.

Throwing Darts

Until 1959, Chrysler Corporation had its own version of Sloanism, a car for every purse and purpose. Plymouth, at the bottom, sold for $2,143 to $3,131, Dodge a notch higher at $2,516 to $3,439. DeSoto weighed in above Dodge and finally Chrysler, with its premium Imperial series, above that. In an unusual marketing strategy, all Dodge, DeSoto and Chrysler dealers also sold Plymouth as a volume leader.

But suddenly, as the ads had promised since 1957, it was 1960 and all that went out the window. Dodge dealers were shorn of their Plymouth franchises and instead given a new low-priced Dart model that was a Plymouth in Dodge dress. Perhaps this was to mute the effect of the new compact Valiant that, while not actually badged as a Plymouth, was sold in Plymouth showrooms. In any case, the cheapest Dodge, a Dart Seneca, sold for $2,278, just eight dollars more than the least expensive Plymouth. There were two more upscale Dart series, Pioneer and Phoenix, as well as the full-size Matador and Polara.

This scheme continued into 1961, with Darts Seneca, Pioneer and Phoenix opposite Plymouth and a single "big" Polara modle, but greater inroads were made into Plymouth territory with the Lancer, a Valiant clone. Dart series were renamed in 1962, with the base model simply "Dart" and the more upscale cars called Dart 330 and Dart 440. The Lancer continued, in two-door, four-door and station wagon form. The only large Dodge was now the Polara 500.

The Dart was a phenomenal success. In its first year, 306,603 cars easily outpaced the 253,432-car volume of the full-sized Plymouth. Ensuing seasons were not so heady, but Dart sales nicely offset the dealers' lack of Plymouth product. The Lancer, however, sold at only half Valiant's volume, so for 1963 it was dropped, replaced by a longer-wheelbase new Dart. With sedan, hardtop, station wagon and convertible models, it caught on, and became Dodge's volume leader. It remained so through 1965 and to the end of production in 1976. A GT coupe also became available. Meanwhile, the 330 and 440 became full-size Dodges, companion to Polara. In 1962, after all Dodges were downsized, dealers begged for a larger car, so the factory mated a Dodge front end to a Chrysler Newport, begetting the Dodge Custom 880.

The Dodge lineup now virtually doubled with Plymouth, and more besides. By the time the Dodge Aspen and Plymouth Volare were introduced in 1976, comparable models were very closely priced, some exactly the same. Plymouth lasted another quarter century, but the handwriting was on the wall. The company was competing against itself, and eventually the weaker brother lost.