Sold! The Postponed 2021 Barrett Jackson Scottsdale

Cool Cars in the Desert

Like swallows to Capistrano, every year car enthusiasts the world over migrate to Arizona for one (or more) of the 5-6 collector car auctions that take place in our Valley of the Sun.

The events normally take place in January. This year the pandemic called into question whether Scottsdale's premier event; the Barrett Jackson event would happen at all. Happily, despite a pandemic postponement, the event did take place in March.

Admittedly the event had to be a little "different" this year. Attendance was way down and the tents were only partially full of cars ready to face the auctioneer's gavel.

Here's some of what caught my eye.

The Ford Motor Company proudly greets attendees at the entry to the Barrett Jackson every year. And, of course, all eyes this year were on Ford's glorious GT's and an new all-electric Mustang Mach-E.

Ford's New Mustang Mach-E

Although I'm not 100% sold on the Mustang's design (seems more like a small crossover than a "pony" car to me), its fit and finish looked tight and the pricing seemed right. 

The Stingray

As usual Ford was joined by Dodge, Tesla, Karma and Chevrolet. And, like last year, Chevrolet's dazzling new mid-engine Chevrolet Corvette continues to turn heads. I LOVE the "Stingray" logo on the boot.

Moving into the "Salon" tent, 2021's light attendance was plainly evident. Yet the tent included plenty of cool rolling stock to appreciate.

My fav's? A lovely 1967 Ferrari, Carol Shelby's Super Snake, Edsel Ford's Woody and an amazing '59 Desoto.

A Lot less Attendance This Year

The Hood Ornament from Edsel Ford II's 1947 Super Deluxe Woody Wagon 

As my friends know, I have a serious hood ornament fetish. There is no 12-step program for it. So the iridescent hood art on Edsel Ford's woody stopped me in my tracks. It found a new owner willing to part with $209,000.

Then a '67 Ferrari also stopped me. I had a 1966 Ferrari Berlinetta once (well it was a Matchbox car) but I have remained in love with that car ever since. The real full sized version here sold for $2,475,000.

A 1967 Ferrari GTB (Grand Touring Berlinetta)

There were the usual crowd pleasing split window corvettes, American Graffiti porthole T-birds and muscle cars.  

But it was a swivel seat 1959 DeSoto nicknamed "Alan" that knocked me for six. I mean, seriously, how could anyone not love a car like this?  Cocktails anyone?

The new owner's of Alan paid $258,500 to own this little slice of lovely American nostalgia.

1959 DeSoto Adventurer

Look at Those Swiveling Seats

Also representing the 1950's was this 1959 Custom El Camino "Triton" (Half Man / Half Beast). It was begun by Karl Krumy who worked with George (The Batmobile) Barris. Krumy left it incomplete until 2014 when Keith Dean finished the work. The Triton sold for $110,000.

1959 Chevrolet El Camino "Triton"

My last snap in the Salon tent is a gauge cluster from a 1952 Cadillac Series 62 Convertible (sold for $84,700).

A 1952 Cadillac Series 62

At this point I cruised the outdoor tents and admired everything from late"ish" model commuter Maserati's (Why?) to fire trucks (Why??) and farm tractors (Why???).  

I tracked down a V-12 Jaguar XJ-S (that went for a song) and a 1963 T-Bird "Bullet Bird" Convertible (admittedly my passion).  

The '63 Bullet Bird At The Detail Tent - All Ready to Gavel

I gorged on some additional hood art and a bunch of little details (like this clock in the rear view mirror of a spectacular 1932 Chrysler CI convertible that sold for $51,700)

Loved the Rear View Mirror Clock in this Chrysler CI

And IMHO some of America's best hood art adorns automobiles made by Packard.  Here is the hood of a 1947 Packard Clipper Sedan (it sold for $31,900). I don't care if it is just a trip to buy diapers, anywhere you go in a car like this will be special.

1947 Packard Clipper

Here is a shot of the cars entering the detail tent just before getting sold. Some cars roared, others purred, but all met the gavel in their 90 seconds of fame. 

The Detail Tent

Sadly, this year the auction severely limited seating for non-bidders in the main auction hall. I'm assuming it was to assure distancing. Actually it was fine. It was a lovely day so I just watched outside on a jumbo tron. 

And there went that lovely T-Bird (a nice daily driver for $20,000). Somebody got a cool car.

Sold!

 

With each year it becomes increasingly apparent that the collector market is evolving fast. A few years ago, a 55 T-Bird was hot at auction. For the last few years it has been 70's and 80's muscle cars that got adrenaline pumping and bids flying. 

But really, prices simply flirt with those reaching middle age and their new found affluence, bolstered by a few beers. They buy the cars they dreamed of owning when they were young. 

Having said that, I see less and less young people at these events each year. I attribute it to the fact that buying and owning a car is out of reach for many younger Americans. They must focus on college debt, high rents and low paying jobs.

Others frankly just don't see cars as any big priority. They have UBER and Lyft. And the cars they grew up with lack character or charisma. Few modern cars trigger real passion. 

So, looking out a couple of decades, times are destined to be very different. 

Most American autos will be part (or all) electric. And, with fewer cars requiring gasoline, gas stations will come to realize they can't get by only selling big gulps and will begin to close. 

That means some very prominent, high-visibility, building sites are about to become available on every corner in America!

For dinosaurs (like me), clinging to my old rolling stock, we will soon face the reality that our precious cars will soon be fuel orphans.

But, for now, who cares? 

Next year, I'll be back! 

Stay healthy! Stay Safe!

Roadboy's Travels © 2021

Arne Was A Good One

 Marriott's Dynamic Leader Passes

 

This week Marriott's CEO Arne Sorenson died from pancreatic cancer at the age of 62.  I'm sure many road warriors will join me in heartfelt sadness at his passing. 

If you google® the statement "everything good about American corporate leadership" Mr. Sorenson's name should come up first. He led with compassion, clarity and seemingly endless enthusiasm.

For those of us that made Marriott properties our "home away from home" for decades, we know the solid team leadership he created delivers nearly flawless consistent quality systemwide. 

Whether I check into a flagship Marriott property or a thrifty airport Fairfield Inn, I arrive expectating a warm welcome, an immaculate room and WiFi that works. 

Many of my fondest family memories include stays at Marriott properties worldwide.

Unlike other hotels chains, where expressions of appreciation for brand loyalty ring hollow, under his leadership I knew my brand loyalty was truly appreciated.    

Perhaps most importantly, unlike hotel magnates that rely on false bravado and empty swagger, his leadership cut through political BS and was accompanied by empathy and a focus stressing tolerance and diversity.

If corporate executives in similar positions of leadership were to take a page from his playbook, the world, and American industry, would be better for it. 

RIP Arne

Sign me "A Fan"

Roadboy's Travels © 2021

Bicycles Vs. Cars

Death is Our Biking Buddy in Phoenix

As of yesterday, I've been hit by cars riding my bike in Phoenix three times. And over my 6 decades of cycling I've been harassed by aggressive dipshit drivers too many times to count.

So I offer this cautionary tale. 

I design buildings in service to law enforcement and the forensic sciences. So I spend a lot of time in evidence rooms. And, as part of a project I was working on many years ago, I toured the Phoenix Police Department Property and Evidence warehouse. 

Now each property and evidence facility I visit is filled with the remnants of evil. All the fragments have a story; mostly tragic. I've seen whole rooms filled with the evidence from a single case. Whether it is remains from the Wah Mee massacre in Seattle or the Chandra Levy (Rock Creek Park) murder in DC, evidence from serious crimes is destined to be stored forever in those repositories.

Anyway, here in Phoenix, I was impressed how orderly and organized the evidence staff stored thier bikes. Hundreds of bikes hanging neatly on hooks in tall racks. 

This was in stark contrast to most police departments, where bikes just pile up outside in a chain mesh cage until the next auction.

So I complimented the evidence staff. 

Then reality hit. I was told said "oh those aren't found property bikes". The found property bikes were indeed outside in a massive chain link enclosure awaiting auction.

The hundreds of hanging bikes I saw hanging so neatly were evidence. 

A cyclist was either killed or catastrophically injured on every one of those hanging bikes. Injuries administered by a human in a car. 

After that day I realized how lucky I have been in my rides and I began to limit my rides to single track trails in the North Phoenix preserve, the Murphy Bridle Path (which I now know can also be dangerous) and the canals. What roads I do ride are those with designated bike lanes. And, thankfully, Phoenix has been implementing "road diets" to create new bike lanes all over he city. They've also added in-pavement bike traffic signal actuators and a bunch of "bikes own this lane" signage (which most Phoenix driver's simply ignore).

It all comes back to automobile drivers. It is kind of the same analogy as gun nuts offer for possessing lots of guns. It ain't the guns that kill, its the creep using them. Similarly, its not the car that kills, its the crap driver operating the car.

The first driver to hit me maintained eye contact with me continuously as he pulled away from a stop sign at the Arizona Biltmore's Adobe Grille and simply drove into me. Drunk, of course, he was confused by the thump he heard, oblivious that he'd just hit a human on a bike.

Luckily, I was ok.

The next event was on the bridle path when a driver in his sleek new white Benz saw an opening in traffic and suddenly turned from Central Avenue across the Bridle Path without a concern for humans on the path. He didn't realize (or care?) that his recklessness sent two joggers diving into the ditch and me over my handlebars. He just waited for his electric garage door opener to close securing his prize wheels. This time I climbed out of the ditch, found all my scattered belongings, collected my bike, dusted myself off and paid him a visit. He opened his front with a beer in hand and mumbled an "oh sorry" before slamming the door.

Another time, also on the bridle path, a car full of polo shirt clad prep school boys aimed their car at me and hit the gas to scare the old guy on the bike in the crosswalk. They thought it was hilarious.

I was able to avoid their kill shot, but was able to string together a long list of obscenities that, until that very moment, I was unaware I owned. 

Yesterday I was riding 30 miles on the canals. It is a ride I carefully composed to avoid street crossings. Yet, one crossing is at 54th street and Indian School in Scottsdale. Scottsdale has bizarre traffic signals defiantly designed to confuse everyone. So as I and about six other cyclists and pedestrians got the green and ventured into the crosswalk, the elderly driver at the curb waiting to make his "free" right, thought it was his turn to go and broadsided me. 

Luckily, the commotion from cyclists and pedestrians screaming at him resulted in the grille of his Ford Fusion just nudging me about a foot. But, it shook me up and left me speechless. He was clearly shaken too apologizing over and over. Only after he'd left did I realize the back wheel on my new bike was all bent up. Shit. 

Yet, if he'd hit one of the pedestrians, things would have been much worse.

So what does all this mean? Well, it means American drivers are too aggressive, too prone to rage, won't put down their phones and generally drive too fast. The bigger their tires, the stupider they get. Or, as a business owner friend in Coeur d'Alene Idaho once confided in me, "My check cashing policy is simple. I take checks from anyone that doesn't drive up in a truck with huge tires, roll bars and fog lights".

Sage advice.

By comparison, in all those narrow little roads I've ridden in Europe (where everyone also rides bikes), drivers always tend to be pretty thoughtful and courteous. Even in seemingly psycho Paris traffic, a cycle guide once advised at the massive Place de la Concorde, that we "show no fear! Just cross! Traffic always gives way to bikes". 

In total disbelief my young kids and I ventured into that maelstrom of traffic, and a miracle happened; traffic flowed around us like water until we safely reached the Tuilleries on he other side.

So my message is this. If you ride a bike in the US (and you should), assume drivers all suck. US drivers just get less attentive every day.

And, if you find your self driving in Phoenix, and see an old guy on an orange e-bike giving you stink eye, it's me!

Please, share the road.

Roadboy's Travels © 2021

Learning From 2020

And Planning for 2021! 

    W'ere trying to think of something nice to say about 2020.

    Okay, here goes: Nobody got killed by the murder hornets. 

                As far as we know.                    

    Dave Barry

 

As for me, 2020 offered one stellar event; a first grandchild! 

But, my year in travel? Almost a complete washout.

So I sit with sleeves rolled up awaiting the vaccine as soon as those more deserving than me get theirs. And then, hopefully, I will be able to rejoin the world.

Since March I've been so impressed by the travel industry. All four of my 2020 AirBNB hosts (despite three bookings with "Strict" cancellations), graciously allowed me to postpone my bookings into 2021). Likewise nearly all airlines offered vouchers and/or refunds. 

Only one hotel the "Oriente Palace Apartments" in Madrid (booked through "Hotels.Com") refused repeated requests for a postponement and enforced full "no-show" charges for nights I could not travel to Spain. Then, adding insult to injury, Hotels.com awarded me free night credits for the paid, but unused nights, only to subsequently take them back. This former lifelong Hotels.com / Expedia customer will simply use up my accumulated free nights and move on.

 

So here's what I learned from 2020

• Travel is a privilege that I'd sorely taken for granted.

• The travel industry stepped up; adjusting cancellation dates, relaxing change fees, offering vouchers etc.

• Airline and hotel employees are just flipping amazing. If you have doubts click the video link from (one of Roadboy's favorite hotel chain's) Spain's RoomMate Hotels.

• Despite many positive benefits, travel insurance clearly excludes losses due to pandemics.

• In many instances it is actually better to pay a few bucks a night extra for reservations I can cancel.

• If your remain patient, courteous and persistent most travel companies will try hard to please you.     

And what are my considerations for future travel?

• I'll be looking for opportunities that support a healthy world and highlight local foods and culture. I'll be avoiding packaged tourist "experiences".

• I will attempt to travel to countries that need my travel dollars.

• I will avoid nations that ignore human rights and are led by morally corrupt psycho's: China, Hungary, Iran, Isreal, the Philippines, Qatar, Russia, Saudi Arabia and Turkey all immediately spring to mind.

• I will try to reduce my carbon footprint riding a bike and using public transport wherever I can.

 • I'm deferring the purchase of stuff, opting instead to spend more on travel. An "I'll go there someday", attitude assures that you'll grow too old to travel before you realize that you missed out on the whole world.

Roadboy's Travels © 2020

Once Again Public Art To The Rescue!

Save The Whales (Tail)

After my last post profiling a transportation disaster that was sad beyond belief, upon seeing this article by Adam Taylor in the Washington Post this morning I just had to pass it on. 

A runaway commuter train in the Netherlands (Rotterdam Metro) today blasted through various safety barriers and landed on the firm(?) grasp of the public art installed beyond the end of the tracks.

I'll wager the cost of the art was probably disputed as wasteful during construction (it always is), but once again art saved the day. In a rather amazing bit of irony, the title of the plastic art piece (even before the wreck) was "Saved by the Whales Tail".

Only the driver was on the train and he's ok.

Da Akkers Metro Station - Spjkenisse Netherlands 

Photo: Robin Utrecht / AFP / Getty Images Washington Post)

I certainly hope they install a replica of that train car resting on that tail forever. 

Roadboy's Travels © 2020

The 1956 Grand Canyon Air Disaster

The Crash That Resulted in The Establishment of The FAA

Last weekend I traveled to Flagstaff for a very happy event; a lovely wedding. While there I became aware of a bit of Flagstaff history residing in the City's Citizen's Cemetery.

On June 30, 1956 two state-of-the-art commercial aircraft departed Los Angeles International Airport within just a few minutes of each other. Their final 90 minute flights would end in an explosive midair crash over the Grand Canyon. Everyone on board both aircraft would perish in what would be American aviation's worst disaster to date and the first crash to claim more than 100 lives. 

Interest piqued, I made a stop to the mass grave to pay respects to the victims of this terrible national tragedy that took place a month after I was born in 1956.

Here is the story:

TWA Flight 2 

TWA Flight Number 2 was destined for Kansas City Downtown Airport in one of TWA's fast and comfortable Lockheed L-1049 Super Constellations. This one christened "The Star of the Seine". 

Super Constellation's had a sleek curved profile and a distinctive low profile three-part tail that allowed the plane to more easily fit in the hangars of many airlines. The TWA flight carried 64 passengers (11 of whom were off duty TWA employees) plus 6 crew members. This aircraft holds additional meaning to me as my first flight at the age of five originated in Oakland on a Super Constellation operated by PSA.  

 

United Flight 718

United Flight 718 was destined for Chicago Midway in a fast new Douglas DC-7 christened "The Mainliner Vancouver". Flight 718 carried 53 passengers and 5 crew members. The DC-7 was a slightly faster aircraft with propellers painted a distinctive red, white and blue to blend while in rotation. 

Both aircraft were built in California in Long Beach and Santa Monica and deemed completely airworthy. 

Both flights took off a few minutes late. The United flight initially flew towards Palm Springs and then turned towards the Grand Canyon. The TWA flight initially flew towards Daggett (Barstow) and then turned towards the Grand Canyon flying at an altitude of 19,000 feet. Seeing weather a radio call was made to climb to 21,000 feet. 

The Grand Canyon was "uncontrolled airspace". In uncontrolled airspace pilots were responsible to "See and Avoid". 

In an era when the US was busy building a vast new interstate highway system, the need for a modern air traffic control system had gone largely ignored. But as the number and nature of midair collisions and near misses kept increasing the public became stunned by stories of America's crude air traffic control systems. Every crash resulted in newspaper and glossy magazine human interest stories profiling lives lost. And, since commercial air travel was largely the domain of captains of industry and the upper middle class, seemingly every crash resulted in fatalities of noteworthy Americans. On the TWA flight an entire family of four from Kansas City perished returning from a visit to Walt Disney's newly opened Disneyland.  Public confidence in air travel (which had been steadily increasing in the 1950's) started to decline resulting in calls for change. 

The weakness in coordinated air traffic control was because American airspace in 1956 was split between the military and the Civil Aeronautics Administration. This resulted in numerous near-misses and collisions between commercial and military aircraft. Flight tracking in 1956 was largely conducted via a loose network of radio monitoring points who in turn took radio calls and relayed requested changes in flight plans regarding altitude / speed  information to various flight centers.

In this case the TWA request to increase altitude to fly around thunderheads put both aircraft were on course to collide over the Grand Canyon. The crash left both aircraft in remote sites in the canyon making initial rescue and the subsequent crash investigation difficult. 

CAB Crash investigators eventually surmised the DC-7 saw the TWA plane and turn to avoid it. Its elevated wing hit the tail of the L-1049. With the loss of an engine and portion of its wing the DC-7 lost control. Correspondingly, without its tail section the TWA experienced an explosive decompression and dropped from the sky.

As details of the crash unfolded the the crude methods used to track and communicate with aircraft became clear and calls were made to establish a unified national air traffic control and monitoring agency. For the first time one agency would combine flight information of both military and commercial aircraft. After 2 years of contentious hearings, the FAA Federal Aviation Agency (renamed in 1966 as the Federal Aviation Administration) was formed together with a commitment to establish a comprehensive network of radar to track aircraft flying in American airspace. 

29 of the United airline victims were interred at the Grand Canyon Pioneer Cemetery. 66 of the TWA airline victims were interred at the Citizens Cemetery in Flagstaff (now completely encircled  by the campus of Northern Arizona University).

 

 

After 64 years, memories tend to fade. Yet, this disaster is important to understand. It served as the defining catalyst in developing a modern American air traffic control system, our national network of radar and the FAA. 

Roadboy's Travels © 2020

 

The Tuna Boat Goes to the Old Car Spa

My 1961 Bullet Bird

This is a second repost. I initially posted it in 2011 to celebrate her first full 50 years. Then again in 2013 after she got a major suspension overhaul.

 

Well here we are in 2021 and my bird has completing over a year of restoration efforts by Darrin Dottling at Phoenix's Vintage Ford Connection. Darrin and his dad Jim have looked after her for the past 25 years.
 

This time around the bumpers came off along with all the chrome and the body was stripped down to metal. It was repainted from its original beige to a azure blue. The engine was removed. The massive bumpers and all brightwork was straightened and re-chromed. Turned out the engine block was cracked so a new block had to be found and was completely rebuilt. It is fitted with a slick new modern carburetor.

Even the steering wheel was removed and is being reglossed back to original. 

All of this attention should allow my now 60 year old Bullet Bird to energetically begin her  next 50 years.

Now here's her story......

When I first saw her I knew she was something special; low to the ground and uber curvy. She was the color of desert sand. I had to look to find the door handles (they were sculpted right into the door). This car was just plain bodacious.

To a 16 year old boy, in an era of boxy 70's era mustangs, it was love at first sight.

The Thunderbird was already 11 years old and had a little over 34,000 miles and was in darned good shape except for missing a back seat. 

When I asked about the seat the little old lady selling it told me she raised show dogs and had the back seat removed (and filled with plywood to better accommodate the cages she used for transporting them). I had visions of the back seat resting in perfect shape covered up in her garage. 

Nope, she had thrown it out.

My 1961 Thunderbird

(From the Era of Sputnik)

When I asked about the missing jack she wistfully said "Oh, I have triple AAA, I don't need a jack!"

There's some logic in there somewhere.

When I asked where I might find a back seat to replace the one she threw away, she rolled her eyes to let me know I was really starting to annoy her. She just said "these are sports cars, they get wrecked every day, go to a junk yard!"

It also needed tires. I also knew full well that (powered by Ford's legendary 390 V8 with a 4 barrel carb) it would pass anything on the road except a gas station. But, back then gas was 34¢ a gallon, came with a free box of dishwasher detergent, and a complimentary car wash.

I took it.

Ahhhh! Fins and Chrome

First stop was a junk yard and I'll be damned if the first T-Bird I came to had a back seat in the right color and the jack. It was pure joss.

The Famous Back Seat

While most of my travels today are by plane, in those days Roadboy's ticket to freedom was this very car. I drove it to high school every day. I drove it to Lake Tahoe about once a month. I drove it camping in the Redwoods. I drove it to Death Valley.

This is the car that moved me to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho and then saw me through all of my college years in Moscow. In fact it was at college where my friend Darryl christened her the "Tuna Boat". The title stuck.

I spent the stupidest night of my life in it, driving drunk. That was the same night I rolled it right over a couple of those fold-up signs with flashers. Never saw em. But I dragged them until she sounded like a North Idaho logging truck. Yep those signs had ripped off both mufflers.

We made quite an impression on all the diners at the Country Kitchen that night.

I was lucky. No one got hurt and the noise my car now made affirmed one of the most important lessons of my life. Never mix alcohol with driving. Ever. Period.

The Very First Swing-A-Way Steering Wheel

When I graduated from college, the Tuna Boat drove me to Seattle (right through the fallout from the eruption of Mount Saint Helens - there is still that grey ash under every panel).

The Invisible Door Handles

But when I moved to Alaska the Thunderbird went off to live with mom and dad back in Idaho. Dad took good care of her and after my five years in Alaska I picked her back up in Seattle.

Amazingly, after a few minor fixes it drove like a champ all the way back to where it started - California. Over the next decade I finally had to have it painted and was only able to drive it once in awhile.

When we moved to Arizona in 1994, the tuna boat carried me, my 4 year old son Bryan and our huge golden retriever Charlie. My son sat in the passenger seat with Charlie carefully straddling the space between our seats looking out the big windshield and panting the whole way. Charlie was a big gentle soul with an epic case of doggie halitosis.

In Arizona the car had a proverbial melt down one day losing all of its ability to cool itself and, me being cash strapped, I had to leave it parked for about three years. (Update: thats probably when I cracked the block). Then I met the god of Big Birds and old Falcons, Jim Dottling. Jim took my car for about a month into his Thunderbird Connection shop in Sunnyslope. There in his old car spa he methodically brought her back to life. Over the years he rebuilt the transmission, replaced all of the rubber parts, added an AC unit, new upholstery, new dash, and a modern sound system. While Jim has since retired, his son Darrin now runs the T-Bird Connection and provides the same thoughtful TLC.  

In many ways she looked better after Jim's care than when I was in high school.

So, except for one night when I played jackass, the Bird safely carried me and my loved ones, friends, and canine buddies for 46 of its 60 years.

Now when I drive I get lots of honks, big smiles, and a whole bunch of thumbs up. Mostly from old guys without teeth driving old beaters.

My son used to always duck down and hide.

Best $700 I ever spent.

 

                              Here's a 2021 `Progress Shot of the New Blue Livery                                                                                                                                                                                                   

And Here's the Finished Product!    

 

                                                   

Roadboy's Travels © 2011, 2013, 2021