Austin-Healey Sprite

You could say that the car was as cute as a bug’s ear, but its bug-eyes gave it the indelible icon that has stayed with us for nearly 50 years. Austin-Healey SpriteThe Austin-Healey Sprite wasn’t the first car that Donald Mitchell Healey built, nor was it the best, but, due to its appealingly affordable price and its so-cute-you-want-to-cuddle-it visage, the Sprite is the Healey car that has the most universal charm.

Indifferent spirit

Healey’s saga was already moving into its third act when the Sprite was presented in 1958. DMH, as he liked to be called, was born in 1898 in Perranporth, Cornwall, the son of a shopkeeper who finally became a land developer. Like Herbert Austin and Henry Royce  before him, the young Healey became enamored of tools, machinery and the most infant industry of the day, aviation. He left school to join Sopwith and within months, the outbreak of World War I encouraged Healey to enlist in the Royal Flying Corps.  Immediately, he shifted from mechanic to aviator, but his short flying career ended when he crashed in 1916. Mustered out of the service soon after, he returned home to Cornwall where he involved himself in two other fledgling industries: automobiles and radios. Read more . . .

Duesenberg J/SJ

Enzo Ferrari was expert at using the cachet gained by his racing machines to sell cars meant for the street. Duesenberg J/SJBut long before Signore Ferrari started his racing career, two brothers from Lippe, Germany, were doing the same thing.

It all began with bicycles

Frederic Duesenberg was born in Lippe in 1878, and his brother August arrived the year after. It wasn’t long before their family embarked on the journey of their lives — emigrating to America. Soon they settled in the Midwest, and that’s where Augie and Fred  got into racing.  Though, not motor racing,  bicycle racing. The two brothers weren’t just good at riding bicycles either; they also assembled them, and Duesenberg-built bicycles became sought-after on the famous American bike racing circuit.

Fred confirmed the quality of their machines in 1898 by establishing a world record for Read more . . .

Volvo P1800

If you ever wondered why the quintessential Brit hero, The Saint, drove a Volvo, there is a particular reason. Classic car Volvo P1800 redThe  P1800 Volvo he drove, was, at least at first, a British car. It was assembled by Jensen,  the renowned English sports car maker,  after Karmann Ghia lost out on the bidding to build the car. And in one of the most productive marketing moves in the car industry, Volvo decided to capitalize on the British connection by supplying vehicles for the British TV show, “The Saint,” which starred Roger Moore as the slightly shady,  free-lance,  womanizing, good guy. Read more . . .

Sunbeam Tiger

Nobody ever accused Maxwell Smart (alias Agent 86) of being the brightest gemstone in the jewelry box, but there is one thing you can say for him, he knew how to pick a car. When he cruised up to the clandestine offices of Control each week to get his newest assignment, the Sunbeam Tiger he left at the curb drew knowing smiles from teenage  auto freaks in the television audience (as well as one Jack R. Nerad of LaGrange, Illinois.) Read more . . .

Nash Twin-Ignition Eights

If Nash Motors Company were a comedian, it would certainly be Rodney Dangerfield. If it were a baseball team, it would simply be the  Chicago Cubs. Classic car Nash Twin-Ignition EightsIf it were a food, it would be the  old fashioned  macaroni and cheese. You see, in Dangerfield’s vernacular, Nash never gets no respect,  huh?  Automotive historians sing the praises of Peerless, Packard,  and Pierce-Arrow. They wax eloquent over Bugatti, Isotta-Fraschini, and Hispano-Suisa.  But Nash, well, Nash is treated like yesterday’s mashed potatoes.

Vehicles for the middle class

Now, to be fair, Nash does not belong in the pantheon of the great marques that built luxurious conveyances for the  rich, who, as Fitzgerald wrote, are different from you and me. But Nash always did a superior job of creating vehicles for the vast American middle class–vehicles that were solid, honest, and hard-working just like the citizens who bought them. Further, when one takes a close look at the Nashes of the late Twenties and early Thirties,  Read more . . .