The People You Meet
by David Jones
Reprinted with Permission of the Author

Dave's '62 BT7

Well, there's still a foot and a half of snow outside, despite the fact that it is 50 degrees and sunny.. It's cold and damp in the garage, and I was spoiled by being able to work on the Healey in the driveway Easter afternoon. So, time on my hands, the warmer weather, the calendar date and the start of baseball season have me thinking about Healey rides, while the snow discourages actually taking one..With appologies to those who prefer purely technical exchanges, I can satisfy my own "Healey fever" somewhat under these snowbound conditions by relating a previous Healey experience, while I listen to the snowmelt trickling off the roof..

A while back, an e-mail told us of a "Healey in a barn" not driven in 20 years, "all original", in pristine condition. As so often happens, the grail escaped the writer, and the car turned out to be a heap. Everyone who has maintained an interest in antique cars for any length of time has at least one story of the rare classic which got away. The Porsche Speedster forgotten in a barn, a 1917 Chrysler tourer that went for "peanuts" in an estate sale, a hidden cache of NOS parts "all in the original boxes".. Once in a while you actually know someone who pulls off the legendary trade, or makes the rare discovery and purchase. These actual success stories serve to keep the search alive, and to make the near misses sting just a little bit more. Much more often, the find dissapears in a tangle of tales told by a friend of a cousin who knew a guy...Or the prize was won by some undeserving so-and-so, who got there "just before I did".

The very fact that you own a classic insures that you will be made to endure the "near miss" experience. Just think about it. You stop in at a country general store for a bottle of fruit juice, and as always happens, one of the locals walks up and inspects your car. "Nice car" he says. "Ray-Bob Thompson had one o' them cars". "Oh?" you say as you climb back in the car, hoping to get away before another near miss story hooks you.. "Yep" he says, "Drove it right up till he took off with them hippies in '64." He spits, and eyes you carefully, and delivers the coup de grace "Yeah, they kept it in the Thompson barn up on East Main 'till last year. -Tore that barn down......don't know what became of that car....." ----Aaaarrgh!

The irony is, that he was just making small talk. He didn't know that he had just ruined your day, or the next several days. He didn't know that years later you would still recall that brief conversation, when you stop to think about the ones that got away.. Or did he know? Was that a glint in his eye and a wry smile on his face as you gunned your Healey back out onto the roadway?

So every time you go for a drive in your classic you meet people, and they all have a tale.. And some of the tales will break your heart. It is part of the price of admission to this club.. I have several such experiences, but one in particular that taunts me. And telling the tale makes it somehow easier to deal with:

Ten years ago I lived in Albany NY, and the Healey ('62 BT7 tricarb), though it had some of the well known outrigger rot and was actually two different colors of red, was a solid driver which I drove every chance I could. The Healey was looking a bit dull, and it was a beautiful Saturday morning, so I pulled out my supplies and went to work washing and polishing. One thing led to another, and pretty soon I was wrapped up in what I thought of at the time as a full blown detailing job. I broke for lunch and went right back at it with armour all, chrome polish, and tire black. Before I was done, it was nearly 4:00 in the afternoon. I packed up my supplies and stood back, and had to admit that, despite its shortcomings, the car looked awfully sharp after a little polishing. So, you can't put in all that work and not go for a drive, but where to go? I decided I would just stop by the local market and grab some soda and maybe some ice cream, and take a quick spin before coming home. It would be dinner time before long. Off I went, little knowing that ten years later I would recall each detail, and be writing about this still exasperating little drive.. I burbled through the lanes of cars at the market and parked the Healey at the far end of the lot away from the other cars. I ran in, and out of the market with my soda and Ice cream, never wanting to leave the car too long unattended in a public parking lot. I lifted the tonneau and placed the groceries in the jump seat behind the driver, and started to get in.. "Excuse me" "Excuse me, young man". I barely heard the faint birdlike voice calling to me. I looked around, and finally saw a tiny elderly silver haired woman sitting in the passenger seat of a car several spaces away. The car was a nondescript aquamarine colored Buick. She motioned to me to come closer. I should have run, as far and as fast as the Healey would take me!

She motioned again, and I thought she might be in distress, so I walked over to see what the matter might be.. "Young man, ...What kind of car is that?" I thought "Pretty hip old lady, interested in sports cars at her age!" I explained what the Healey was, and that it was from England. "It looks very nice" she said. "You must work hard to keep a car that old looking so nice" I told her that I had always loved old machines, and enjoyed working on them, and felt that it was important to preserve them. "My husband had an old car like that, but it was made in America." My ice cream was melting, and despite the fact that she was unlikely to have any details, I asked: "Oh, and do you know what kind of car it was?" "It was a 1954 Chevrolet" she said. "He loved that car! ...I kept it up until about a year ago." Ah, I thought, another situation where no distinction is made between an antique sports car and other antique cars. No big deal, I had never really been interested in fifties american sedans, and this was a '54, not even a '57 Chevy. My interest dissapeared, but I continued to listen to her because she seemed so frail and lonely.

She turned out to be quite the chatterbox, and I half listened as she told me that she had kept the car because it had meant so much to her husband. And that her son would come to visit infrequently, with a daughter-in law who she despised, and the son and daughter in law would get the car started and go for a ride each time they came. But that she herself, had never gotten a ride with them, and hadnt ridden in the car since her husband died. She went on to say that she had finally given in, and given the car to her son a year earlier, although she knew he wouldnt take care of it. " If I had known a nice young man like you that would have kept it special, I would have given it to you," she said "My husband would have liked that," Now my ice cream was really melting, and I was standing on one foot, trying to find a polite way to disengage from this conversation. I was flattered that this lady thought enough of me that she would have given me this car, but a '54 Chevy sedan was no great prize lost, in my mind. Despite my eagerness to leave, she had seemed so sad that she had never gotten another ride in the car, I had to ask the fatal question: "When your son and daughter in law went out for rides in the car, why didn't you ask to go along?" I expected her to say that she couldn't stand to be in the same car with her daughter in law! But her answer forever froze that moment in my memory and fixed all of the details of that day in my mind. That angelic little old face looked up at me from the seat of that Buick: " I told you, Dear," "......That car had only two seats, just like yours".

I don't know how long it took for the realization to strike me, but I know it wasn't long.. She really did mean an old car "just like mine!". Oh god, this woman just told me that if I had met her by chance, a year earlier, she would have GIVEN me a 1954 Corvette! God, tell me she didn't say that!

Now, I am not a huge fan of all Corvettes, but this car is a valuable and scarce bit of automotive history. One of the unattainable classics, an automotive holy grail, at least in my mind. Zora A Duntov has always been a name which commands a mystique like Colin Chapman or Donald Healey.

I dont remember the rest of the conversation. I think I uttered a few incoherent phrases and wandered back to my car and my melted ice cream. Shattered by a chance meeting with an old woman in a parking lot.... Ah... no good deed goes unpunished.

The old lady wasn't capable of making up any of her tale. -I'd feel better if I could convince myself that she had been pulling my leg. Somewhere out there, is a son and a daughter in law who don't know how lucky they are...

I am convinced the little old lady was just being freindly, and that she did indeed have a 1954 Corvette. But there is a little part of me which likes to picture her to this day, sitting around a card table with her cronies, laughing like mad while telling HER side of the tale. "I hated to do it to such a nice young man, (giggle), but he was buying it... You should have seen his eyes bug out when I said it was a two seater! (hahahahahaha!)"

David W. Jones
Rhode Island
'62 BT7 tricarb
HealeyMK2@aol.com

Editor's Note: This is one of the best car stories I have ever heard - furthermore, it is extremely well-written. Drop Dave a note and let him know what you think of it! (If you compliment him enough, we might just convince him to spin some more of his tales our way.)