Father Hated Chryslers

Alas, the beleaguered Chrysler Corporation filed bankruptcy this week. If my father was still alive today, he would have felt vindicated. Dad never liked Chryslers. I remember him telling me as a youngster that they wouldn't start in the rain. While I found that impossible to be true, he must have had an experience where one didn't and it colored his impression for the rest of his life.

Of course, car ownership in the 1950s was much different than it is today. You rather joined a family of cars in those days. We were a GM family. The Stacey's down the street were Ford people. Father's good friend, Alex Bell, was solely Chrysler. It was much like belonging to a political party and you didn't stray. I can remember arguments between my childhood friend, Alex Bell, Jr., about which car was better - a Chevy or a Chrysler. We both wanted bragging rights. Just like political preferences, however, you seldom changed anyone's mind and I would go home after a day of play with Alex, confident that Dad and his Chevy was better than Alex's father in a Chrysler. Sharing those observations with Dad at the dinner table that evening, he would beam with pride.

He lost some of that pride years later when I showed up at my parent's house with an older car I wanted to restore: a 1948 Chrysler Windsor. "They weren't any good then and you'll pay hell trying to keep it running" were the first words out of Father's mouth. He rather thought I was being a fool about the whole project. Had I showed up in a '48 Chevy sedan, I believe he might have been more receptive.

Over the next year I succeeded in bringing the Windsor back to life. A new engine and brakes. A new muffler and paint. But anytime something went wrong, Dad's comments came back to haunt me.

A friend of mine, Bob Moss, and I planned a weekend car trip in 1979 from Norfolk up through Virginia's Eastern Shore to visit my Grandparents in Seaford, Delaware. We would take the Chrysler. It was in July and hotter than the blue blazes. We left Norfolk after a late lunch and as circumstances would have it, thunderstorms appeared as we passed Salisbury, Maryland on Route 13. We had the cow vent open as the Windsor didn't have air conditioning (few '48s did), but had to close the windows as a torrential rain suddenly slammed the car. It had gotten so dark from the storm that I turned the headlights on. The wipers were going full tilt just to keep up with the rain. Wind buffeted the Chrysler. And then it happened. The electrical system failed and I lost the headlights and wipers. I couldn't see anything ahead. At first I felt panicked, terrified I would drive into something or just careen off the road. But as I let up off the gas and slowly braked, the lights and wipers suddenly came back on. I never felt so relieved in my life. Apparently, rain water had trickled down from the open cowl vent and temporarily shorted the system. I begin to wonder if a very similar situation had happened to Dad years ago. I decided not to mention the episode to him, as it would only reinforce his complete disdain for Chryslers and how they didn't run well in the rain.

Years later, when I sold the Windsor, I realized Dad never took a ride in my Chrysler.

Confidentially, I wonder how Dad would have taken the news that his beloved GM is now teetering on bankruptcy itself?