Henrietta Hay's Column

We all have "wish we hads" One of mine is, "I wish I had bought one of those square body MG roadsters back in 1940 or so when they cost $1700." Of course, in 1940 the idea of buying an English sports car for that humongous price was unthinkable. And owning one of the old classic automobiles is still fantasy for most of us.

But last week fantasy almost became reality for a couple of hours when the Great American Race came to town. About a hundred magnificent old cars were driven into Lincoln Park and parked for a 15-minute pit stop on their way from New York to Los Angeles. We could see them and smell them and marvel at them. Chris, my teen-age companion, enjoyed hearing his first "UH-ooooooo-GUH, but I was moving back in time emotionally, remembering when I had first seen cars like that.

Somebody said that Americans have an ongoing love affair with the automobile, starting with the first Tin Lizzie. Certainly I have had. These old cars have special meaning to those of us who grew up with them. They bring old memories, generally very fond ones.

Apparently my interest in cars is inherited. My father's best friend at the University of Illinois had the first automobile on the campus. During the summer of 1906, so I have been told, they drove it from Champaign to the West Coast and back again. I find this so hard to imagine that I asked a couple of the drivers at the Great American Race whether it could have been done. Both told me that it was quite possible, but it would have been, to put it mildly, a lengthy and difficult journey. But those young men were adventurous, and automobiles were new. The roads were primitive and repair shops non-existent. Gasoline would have been hard to come by. They had to repair and replace as they went. The car must literally have been held together with baling wire and Scotch tape, except that there wasn't any Scotch tape.

I am aware of the first car in my life only because there is a picture of me -- very small -- standing on the running board of a very early dodge. Any resemblance between that car and a Dodge today does not extend beyond the fact that each of them has four wheels.

The first car I really remember was The Old Hudson, probably a 1926 or so, that hauled us all over the state of Colorado including that never to be forgotten first visit to the Grand Mesa and Grand Junction during my high school years. We went on main roads that would be considered cattle trails today, in blinding dust when dry and bottomless mud when wet. The hairpin curves were so tight you had to back up two or three times to get around them.

The Old Hudson hauled us over Loveland Pass the first summer it was opened, it navigated Gore Pass in the mud and it thought Monarch was a snap. And one wonderful day on Kenosha Pass my dad stopped The Old Hudson and asked me for the first time whether I would like to drive it. The Old Hudson may have faltered now and then, but it never failed us.

When I was in C. U. I dated a guy who had a Model A Ford convertible with a rumble seat, the ultimate in sportiness in the '30's. For the uninitiated, a rumble seat was sort of a convertible back seat. When it was closed, the car looked like a coupe. When open, there was a fresh air passenger seat. It was possible to put at least eight college kids into that Model A with fair comfort, but it was much better with only two! Seeing the Model A's last week, I could only marvel at how they have shrunk.

I have continued my love affair with the automobile and have had a series of really interesting cars, but never have I seen a collection like that in the Great American Race. From the tiny Ford Midget Sprint to the huge Packard super-8-roadster, from the Model A's and Model T's and old Buicks and Chevy's and Studebakers to that wonderful 1913 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost they were a treat to see. And oh the memories they brought with them.