An Unexpected Legacy
June 5, 2020
In a curious, parallel coincidence, my brother and I are each driving a convertible these days. After a life of building, collecting and saving, Dad would laugh to think that this was one of his legacies. Dad always loved cars, a passion that I think he genetically passed on to me. He was still subscribing to Motor Trend up until his death, and we were still discussing cars even after he had delegated all of the driving to others.
I don’t know how or when Dad’s interest in convertibles originated. Dad was sick a great deal as a kid, missing entire grades due to multiple bouts with pneumonia – but he read a lot, was raised by erudite parents (non-college educated but both readers), and when the weather got warm, always found his way outside — preferably to a body of seawater. He fished in the Gulf, he body surfed in the Pacific. By the time he was a teenager, he was playing football and dating. While my grandfather was away in the South Pacific (New Guinea) during WWII, Dad’s first cousin Ken Pratt taught him how to drive and tie a tie, among other things.
Dad’s first convertible was a light green 1950 Ford two-door. He acquired it after graduating from USC with his engineering degree. He drove it through the mountain west with school buddies. He drove it to Fort Belvoir when serving during the Korean war. He drove it to my great-grandmother’s house on Grove Avenue in Richmond when he and Mom were dating. Of course the top was always down when he showed up in his shades and Hawaiian shirt. A cheeky Californian, he dared call my great-grandmother the more familiar “Grandma” instead of the more respectful “Mrs. Phaup.”
The car was very much in evidence in their wedding photos, with one memorable shot of them beaming from the front seat with the top up (it was February, after all). Mom later referred to the Ford as “the covered wagon” when Dad drove her across country from VA to CA in the fall of 1952, following discharge from the army where he was an instructor for the Army Corps of Engineers.
When Frank and I finally arrived, Dad’s love of convertibles (but not of cars) went into deep hibernation for almost forty years. But it reappeared in retirement after moving back to VA. Following a couple of false-starts trying other two-seaters like the Buick Reatta, Dad found a used Chrysler Allante convertible. The Allante was built by Chrysler using a Maserati engine and infrastructure. Dad called driving it travelling “al fresco.”
When Dad moved back to CA after remarriage in the early 2000’s, he sold the Allante and bought a Chrysler Sebring convertible – which was eventually traded in for a black Mercedes SLK retractable hardtop. It was intended to replace a car that his second wife, Kelly, had once possessed and enjoyed.
But then Dad had the opportunity to buy a brand new (but too long on the sales lot) Cadillac XLR for a significantly discounted price. The XLR was a low, sleek and elegant two-seater, with a retractable hardtop and a Northstar V-8 engine. Not one to normally name cars, I christened it the “Silver Streak.” With its clean, linear lines and broad tires, it looked fast just sitting quietly in Dad’s garage.
By then twice widowed, Dad often squired his lady-friend, Jackie Matthews, a watercolor artist, on long drives up the winding and spectacular central CA coast, past Hearst Castle and San Simien, up to Carmel, Monterey and beyond. I could just picture them with the top down, Dad in his driving cap, red-haired Jackie wearing something with a broad brim, her hand affixed to its top to prevent theft by the wind. The hills would be emerald green (from winter rains), the coastal cliffs rough and brown, the surf frothy and sapphire blue. A veritable car commercial.
Then Jackie passed away, and Dad’s health, which had been precarious for a few years, began to fail. The XLR sat, winding down its battery. On his frequent weekend trips to visit and help out, Frank often took Dad on local drives “al fresco” to keep the XLR in working order.
When Dad passed away, Frank and I agreed that he should take possession of the XLR. He drove it down to southern CA and garaged it, relegating his faithful Volvo S40 to “visitor parking.” To this day, Frank continues to enjoy the XLR with a few minor updates for phone and music. During the COVID-19 shut-down, his escape has been that car.
In April 2019, after vacillating for several years about used Mustang convertibles, I purchased a long-desired Mini Cooper Convertible instead– which I was not able to convince my husband was more practical than a typical two-seater (!).
Had it not been for Dad, though, I doubt I would have given any convertible the time of day. Except perhaps for the current generation of the Jaguar E-type, now the 2021 F-type. (Unapproachably gorgeous.) I suspect Frank might feel the same (about convertibles, not F-types).
So Frank and I are now driving our respective convertibles on opposite coasts. We are not consciously trying to memorialize Dad, but we are connecting to him in a way by honoring one of his enthusiasms — which if we keep close, maybe keeps us close to him.
The only hard part is overcoming the overwhelming desire to tell him all about it.
WordShelter.com 