We had an excellent turnout for our early October outing, with 16 like-minded friends willing to venture out in spite of a gloomy forecast (for the record, it didn’t rain during the drive). All in, we had 12 classic cars, 2 modern Volvos, plus a motorcycle! Several first-timers seemed to like it well enough that they’ve threatened to show their faces again.
You could be forgiven for looking at the photos and thinking that this was a meeting of the local Porsche 911 club, what with four of them (three red) among our assortment. We still had a fine mix of American, British, Italian, Japanese, and other German cars, old and new.
Our ride this day took us north from the Sheraton in Mahwah, along Greenwood Lake, and eventually to New Windsor, NY, where we dined at the Ikaros Diner. The diner staff had a table waiting for us, and somehow, in spite of constant blabbering, we also managed to consume food and coffee.
The diner’s parking lot made for an excellent staging area for group photos. (Thanks to Bill W and Andy M for the panorama photo of us). We must be doing something right, because at the end of the event, most everyone wanted to know when we’re going to do this again. It must be the coffee.
Ken’s RED 911
Peter’s RED 911
Dave’s RED 911
Ted’s NON RED 911
Jeff’s BMW Z3
Enzo’s Alfa Spider
Nick’s Mustang
Bill’s C1 Corvette
Sal’s E30 BMW 3-Series
Tim’s MG-B/C/V8-GT
Your author’s Miata
Red Porsche in front, red Porsche in back
Porsche, Alfa, Porsche, Mustang in Miata mirror
“I turned left when you went straight”
Proof that men…
… talk with their hands
The Z3 serves as a nice foreground
As does Richard’s Jaguar F-Type
“I gotta get over there, they’re talking about me”
It’s been a hot summer in the Northeast, but the morning of August 28, 2016, dawned with somewhat cool temperatures. This usually means that while it would still get quite warm, the humidity would fail to be oppressive. Most importantly, it gave every indication of staying dry for our breakfast drive, a gathering which we last did back in May.
The usual chit-chat before breakfast
Our turnout today was great: 12 cars and 14 participants. Showing the diversity of our automotive interests, we had a mix of 5 domestics and 7 imports, and almost every decade represented from the 1960s through the 2000s. For a switch, let’s list our cars alphabetically by make (OK, I admit it, I want to get the Alfas first):
Alfa Romeo – THREE! Two ’91 Spiders, and your blogger’s ’67 GT Junior.
BMWs – Three: Two Z3s (one an M), and a rather new 2-series convertible.
Cadillac – a ’66 Eldorado convertible.
Chevrolet – Two: A ’72 Nova, and a C4 Corvette coupe.
Dodge – The Green Viper.
Ford – A late-model Mustang convertible.
Porsche – a late ‘80s 911 coupe.
We’re now in the habit of including a fuel and restroom break
Our breakfast destination was the Readington Diner on Route 22 in Whitehouse Station NJ. Once we got off Routes 287 and 10, the roads were a driver’s delight. The diner was most accommodating, as we called ahead, and there was a table waiting for us when we strolled in at 10:30.
Coffee, food, more coffee, talk, and more coffee finally concluded with the usual “why don’t we do this again soon?” So we will. We’re hoping for at least two more runs this year before our classics are tucked away for the winter.
Went to visit my pal Pete yesterday. He’s the family friend from whom I purchased the Alfa. A trip to Pete’s place is always a guaranteed entry into some automotive fun, as he has a nice collection of “older” and “newer” cars, and always gives me a chance to take several of his cars out for drives.
There was no way I could have anticipated the “drive” which was on the horizon this day for both of us.
We were cruising in his 1979 Volvo 265 (original owner, 41,000 miles, AACA Preservation Award winner), with me behind the (thin-rimmed, non-air bag) wheel, when Pete said “see those cars on the left? Pull into that lot”. Those cars on the left were unmistakable, even from a distance of several hundred yards: a first-generation Corvair sedan, and a mid-fifties two-tone Packard sedan. I stopped the car. Pete got out and said “let me find the guy”.
1956 Packard Clipper Custom 4-door sedan
The guy was the proprietor of the gravestone marker business in whose parking lot we were sitting. Pete returned within moments, the Packard’s keys clutched in his hand, the guy right behind him. They were discussing a test drive route in the area. The guy motioned for me to climb in, said to both of us “have fun”, and went back to tend to several ladies who were shopping for granite.
Packard from the rear: it’s as large as it looks
“We” were going for a test drive in this car, a 1956 Packard Clipper 4-door sedan.
Steering wheel feels 3 feet wide – it’s just that modern wheels are so much smaller
Observation #1: there is a lot of room in the front seat of a ’56 Packard. The bench seat, combined with a dash barely extending out from the windshield base, provides a lot of stretch-out space. Pete, who is fit and slender, looked lost behind that enormous steering wheel. With the key in the ignition, the big V8 fired right up. Pete moved the column-mounted shifter into “R”, which on this car is at the far right, next to “L” (can’t say “PRNDL” here), and backed the car out of its parking spot.
Observation #2: a 1956 Packard does not have seat belts, unless some previous owner had decided to install them at some point during the car’s 50 years of life. No previous owner had made that decision here.
Grab rope is in lieu of belts; note obligatory ashtray
As we headed toward the road, a busy two-lane highway with a de facto speed limit of around 60, I asked Pete “are we turning left or right?”
Pete: “left”.
To myself: “oh shit”.
We both were trusting that this rig would not stall when the gas was mashed, that the steering wheel would at least pretend to be vaguely connected to the front tires, and that the brake pedal would not sink to the floor upon initial application. In other words, there was no parking lot test drive before stepping out to play with Friday’s traffic.
Pete successfully made the left turn, and the car was up to 50-55 with little effort. We cruised for several miles at that speed. I noticed that with Pete’s hand steadily on the wheel, the steering did not need constant correction in order to continue straight – impressive (and certainly not how my ’57 Ford steered).
Orange valve covers out of place on green engine block
The road started downhill, the posted speed limit dropped to 40, there was construction on the right, an 18-wheeler was behind us, and the traffic light up ahead turned red. We needed to slow down QUICKLY. Pete braked with his left foot. The car dove to the right, he let up on the pedal, reapplied the brake, and the car darted left. The brakes pulled badly. The tractor trailer, in Pete’s words, was “up my butt”. To his credit, Pete controlled that big wheel, modulated the brakes, and got us safely stopped. Speaking of stopped, my breathing did for about 10 seconds. I recovered. Did I mention that the car had no seat belts?
Battery, hoses, clamps look recent; otherwise things look refreshingly original
As we turned left into a residential area, I was relieved to be away from that busy 2-lane. This was when Pete pulled over, put it in Park, and said “OK, your turn”. I had not driven a ‘50s-era automobile in many years. I had never driven a Packard. This was going to be a thrill.
With the transmission back in “D”, I pulled out onto the quiet 25-mph street. The car’s power steering certainly was effortless, but inputs did have a direct effect on the car’s direction. Accelerator tip-in was fine, and the V8 had lots of torque. The most remarkable observation during the test drive was the car’s ride. It was supple without being too floaty. There was nary a squeak or rattle from any of the four corners. The car handled better than a 2-ton ‘50s American car would be expected to handle. (And this on bias-plies.)
Kids: handle on right controls door window. Rotate one direction to raise, the other to lower
The two issues with the car were the aforementioned (drum) brakes, which needed adjustment or perhaps a service, and the transmission, which needed its quadrant adjusted, and which at one point during a downshift made a groaning sound.
The car’s odometer indicated 57,614 miles, and Pete and I agreed that nothing we saw before, during, or after our test drive would give us reason to doubt those miles were original.
Car’s styling rivals anything else from Big 3 for ’56; note exhaust pipe
Back at the gravestone store, I parked the Packard exactly where we had found it. Pete ran the keys back to the owner. It was then that I got the story that the Packard (and the Corvair) had belonged to the owner’s father, who passed away a year ago. He was just getting around to putting them up for sale. The ask was $16,000. Pete told him that he would think about it.
1962 Chevrolet Corvair 4-door
Ask is lots less than Packard
Roofline shared with full-size GM cars
I know that Pete would love to have the car, but like many of us, he has an issue with room. His 4-car garage is full, and there’s still one (newer) car outside. Additionally, at almost 19 feet in length, there’s some doubt that it would fit (unless one drilled holes in the wall for the Dagmars). This car looks like it’s had one high-quality repaint but otherwise appears to be in fine original condition. It’s just several weekend’s worth of detailing away from being an HPOF candidate at an AACA event.
Front & rear badges say “Clipper”; “Packard” is in small font on side of decklid
Observation #3: a 1950s-era Packard motorcar would make a fine addition to anyone’s car collection.
SIDEBAR: 1956: the year of the last “real” Packards
The history of the Packard Motor Company is a fascinating study of how a successful maker of some of America’s finest luxury cars still managed to go out of business. It is impossible to go into great detail here, except to note that by the 1950s, Packard merged with Studebaker, and finally replaced its straight-8 engine with a V8 for 1955. But there was much more to the 1955 Packards than that. Quoting from my copy of the Encyclopedia of American Cars, by the Auto Editors of Consumer Guide:
“… the 1955 Packard was a technological marvel. Prime among its wonders was “Torsion Level” suspension: long torsion bars connecting front and rear wheels on each side. A complex electrical system enabled the suspension to correct for load weight, and effectively interlinked all four wheels for truly extraordinary ride and handling despite two-ton bulk…. …these were impressively fast and roadable cars…. Customers were scared away by … the ’55 Packards’ notorious quality and service problems. Ironically, the ‘56s were better built….”
Their write-up goes on to say that in a truly desperate move, Packard decided that the “Clipper” would be an entirely separate make for 1956:
“Besides registering the name as a distinct make, (company President James J. Nance) decreed separate Clipper and Packard dealer signs…. As a final touch, “Packard” appeared nowhere on ’56 Clippers except for tiny decklid script – and some didn’t even have that.”
By the 1957 model year, Packards were being built in South Bend, Indiana on restyled Studebaker bodies. It was the end of an era. But reading the above, it’s now understandable why our test-drive car rode so well (and why I’d want to learn more about the suspension’s electrics before plunking down my hard-earned cash). I also had no idea that “Clipper” was a separate make in 1956, which explains the badging on this particular car. Based on the quality and the engineering of the example we drove, it is a shame that Packard did not survive.
After a relatively mild winter, the spring of 2016 has been taking its sweet time arriving in the Northeast. Any fears of summer heat waves in early May have been unfounded, with daily temperatures often running 10 degrees below normal. Our little driving club tried to get an early start on the season by planning a mid-April event, which had to be cancelled due to the threat of snow! Our scheduled drive on Sunday May 15 did successfully occur, in spite of cool weather and surprise showers.
Hey guys, do you want to eat, or would you rather stand around and shoot the breeze?
Checking back on last year’s blog entries, we never had more 15 participants on any one run (excepting Spousal Accompaniment Day). Today, we broke that record with 17 gentlemen occupying 12 cars. Obviously, we had 5 passengers, several of whom were joining us for the first time. Our destination was a crowd favorite, the Silver Spoon Café in Cold Spring NY.
We pull over to give those in back a chance to catch up
The cars: we usually count up the Chevys, and then all the rest. Today, the Europeans won the day with a total of 7 cars: 3 Germans, 2 Brits, and 2 Italians. We had 4 U.S. brand cars, and one Japanese. There were old(ish) and new(ish) vehicles in all the subcategories with multiple vehicles.
The Mother Country was beautifully represented Rich S’s black MGB and Rich L’s white Jaguar F-Type.
The MGB of Rich S
The F-Type Jag of Rich L
The 2 Italians cars were both Alfas: EC was the proud papa bringing his ’91 spider out with us for the first time, while your humble scribe brought his trusty, un-rusty ’67 GT Junior.
Enzo’s 1991 Alfa Spider
The author’s ’67 Alfa GT Junior
German marques ruled the roads today with 3 cars: Peter’s stunning red 911, Sal’s BMW 325is, and John M’s new Audi A3 cabrio.
Peter’s Porsche 911
John’s Audi A3
Sal’s BMW 325is
Among domestic product, it was all Chevrolet, including 3 Corvettes: Bill’s C1, Ron’s C4, and George’s C6. Larry ran his reliable Camaro.
Bill’s C1
Ron’s C4
George’s C6
Larry’s ’94 Camaro
The sole Asian car was Jim N’s Datsun 280Z.
Jim’s Datsun 280Z
We departed the Sheraton Crossroads parking lot (almost) right on time and headed north. As soon as we did, the skies darkened, and the clouds threatened. In spite of the weather, several drivers motored with convertible tops down. After a beautiful ride along Seven Lakes Drive and over the Bear Mountain Bridge, we were at our destination with 10 minutes to spare. The staff at the Silver Spoon had a table for 17 waiting. Coffee was almost immediately served, with hot breakfast plates soon following. As always, the camaraderie around the table made it difficult to leave.
The obligatory wave before breakfast
When we finally wrenched ourselves away from the food and endless caffeine, we stepped outside to some slight sprinkles. Those who had left their tops down scurried back to their cars. Several of us continued to linger and chat, not wanting the festivities to end. But end they eventually did. We’ve assured the group that we’ll do our best to get out at least once a month this driving season.
The Silver Spoon Cafe, on Main St. in Cold Spring NY, survived our visit
In the summer of 1977, I had just graduated college; I had sold my Chevy Vega to my brother Karl and was without my own car; and I had decided to postpone the post-grad job hunt, knowing full well that this could be the last time for a very long time that I’d have a few months of freedom.
My friend Mike who was in graduate school also was free for the summer. He had recently purchased a 1971 Volvo 144 (his first choice, a Volvo 164, was a bit out of his financial reach), and together we hatched a plan to drive the Volvo to California and back, visiting friends and relatives along the way. Sometime in late July, we departed my parents’ house on Staten Island and pointed the car west.
On the hood of his new (to him) 1971 Volvo 144
Growing up as an East Coast car enthusiast, I had tolerated the inevitable corrosion that beset our automobiles, brought on by winter’s road salt. California had always been a dream, not just for its beautiful weather, but for its supposed rust-free cars. At the age of 23, I was finally about to see the Golden State for the first time. Heck, this trip would be the first time that I would be traveling further west than Youngstown, Ohio.
The photographs I took during the 3-week long journey included some interesting finds in the Midwest, as well as plenty of neat cars in California, even by 1977 standards. My camera at that time was a cheap Kodak Instamatic, so please forgive the quality of these pictures.
To put some historical perspective on this trip:
A week before our trip began, on July 13, 1977, all of New York City was hit by a 2-day power outage.
During that summer, the city was gripped by the horrific Son of Sam killings. When we departed, he was still at large. As we traversed the country in our NY-plated car, more than one person asked if either of us was Son of Sam (macabre humor). On August 10, 1977, David Berkowitz was captured, and we both were relieved to hear this news on the Volvo’s AM radio.
Less than a week later, on August 16, while we were in Lexington KY, the news broke that Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll, had passed away.
Three days later, on August 19, Groucho Marx died, and the country was so riveted by Elvis’ passing that the loss of Groucho barely made a dent in the news.
In Ohio, we stopped to visit Marianne, one of Mike’s college friends. I snapped this photo as we parted company, as she strolled toward her Volkswagen Fastback.
Marianne and her VW Fastback
We visited another college friend at her mother’s home in Stillwater, Minnesota. Imagine my surprise to discover that her mom drove a BMW 2002, and her brother’s daily driver was an Audi Fox, with an MGB-GT project car in the garage. All 3 cars had manual transmissions. The bro’ let me drive the Fox, which had a direct influence on the new-car purchase I would be making in about two months.
European cars in Stillwater MN
BMW 2002, Audi Fox, and MGB-GT (in garage) along with our 144
Colorado was a revelation. While I have returned multiple times, this first visit stands out because we young men had no idea why, as our sturdy Swedish machinery climbed the Rocky Mountains, we lost power. It got to the point that the car would barely do 40 mph uphill. Those funny-looking SU carbs under the hood were a complete mystery to us. The Volvo’s automatic transmission wasn’t helping with the search for more speed.
Self-serve fill-up, Colorado style. Note the whitewall tires and missing hub caps.
When we arrived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where Mike’s grandparents lived, he decided that he had enough driving for a while. Reaching California was my dream, not his. Content with spaghetti, beer, and A/C (which the Volvo lacked), my buddy handed me his car keys and said, “if you’d like to continue, you’re on your own. Just pick me up on your way back.”
I took the car and left. The one-way trip to L.A. was 800 miles and about 12 hours of driving. Making the trip in one day, the only “difficult” part of the journey was the Mohave Desert. I bought a huge iced tea in Needles CA, crossed the 110-degree desert with all the windows open, and stopped to refuel in Barstow CA, where this photo was taken:
Barstow CA, 1977: A newish Caddy has its hood open, while a ’65 Caddy manages to look cool.
At last, San Bernadino, and the Pacific ocean. Finding a beach, I parked so that I could at least put my feet in water 3,000 miles from where I usually swam. This parking lot photo mainly features newer cars, but back home, Karmann-Ghias had already become rare sights.
A VW Karmann-Ghia sits between a Porsche 911 Targa and a Chrysler Cordoba.
Searching for Los Angeles, I was confused by the sprawl. There were no clear city boundaries. But I did find Sunset Blvd., and as I was about to turn onto it, two ’60s era Chevrolets were in front of me. This photo was taken while driving, mainly for my brother Karl who was in the midst of trying to resurrect a 1964 Impala back home. Karl’s car looked nothing like this one!
The street sign says Sunset! A Nova SS followed by a ’64 Impala.
Heading back to NM, a summer storm may or may not have been a contributing factor to this massive traffic tie-up. We were stopped long enough that most folks turned off their cars and wandered around on the highway.
A 1972 Ford sits behind a 1973 Pontiac Grand Prix
Except for the power loss in the Rockies (which could have been cured had we known to lean out the carbs), the Volvo performed quite well. Its seats were incredibly comfortable and supportive for what was probably 7,000 miles of driving over 3 weeks. The gas mileage was decent. A stick shift and an FM radio would have been my preferences, but it wasn’t my car. It was my first real experience with the brand, and the irony of driving a Volvo on this trip was not lost on me when 13 months later, I entered the car business by going to work for a Volvo dealership.
Our final drive of the 2015 season took place on Sunday, November 15. The day dawned sunny, dry, and as the weatherman might say, “seasonably warm”, with midday temps approaching 60 degrees. The emails with regrets I had received during the week led me to believe that we would have a light turnout. This was incorrect, as we had 11 cars and 15 guys, not too shabby! As has been the tradition this year, two gents new to the group joined us for the first time. We must be doing something right.
Your blogger’s 1993 Miata
Bill W’s 1961 Corvette
Sal’s Z4M
Larry’s 1994 Camaro
Rich L’s Jaguar F-type
Ralph’s 1966 Buick Skylark
Bill’s Boxster
Rob’s Z3M
Ted’s 911
Rich S’s 1974.5 MGB V8
A Buick all-aluminum V8
John M notes match between names on tire and hat
Julio’s BMW 6-series
“When are you going to finally buy that Alfa you want?”
Almost too nice to get into our cars
We pushed off from our usual Mahwah Sheraton Crossroads departure point at 9 a.m., one hour later than usual, in deference to the shorter November days. Heading down Route 287 South, yours truly was all too happy to cruise in the Miata with the top down, but not too many other convertibles took advantage of the sunshine, at least not at first.
Beautiful day for a cruise (photo courtesy Rich S.)
Our destination for the morning was Stella G’s, an excellent breakfast joint in Hackettstown, NJ. We’ve been there before, but not this year. The drive consisted of three roads: Route 287 South to Route 23 North to Route 517 South. A new tradition is the now-obligatory pit-stop, christened the “Bill Whited fuel and bathroom break”. This time it was a Quick Chek. Your scribe observed that once we stop and let everyone start yapping again, it can be problematic to get the boys back into their cars.
After a beautiful cruise down Route 517 (we will NOT mention that the chase car made a wrong turn and ended up on Route 80), we were at Stella G’s at exactly 11 a.m. Customer Service in the state of NJ can indeed be spoken about in the present tense, as proven today. We called Stella G’s twice to ask them about seating 15 arrivals, and even though they do not take reservations on the weekend, we walked in at 11 a.m. sharp to find tables reserved and set for our large crowd. The food, coffee, and service were excellent as they always are at Stella G’s (thank you Kate!).
Stella G’s, Main St., Hackettstown – worth the trip
Too busy eating to talk
Stuffed French Toast
Downtown Hackettswtown; charming place
We were having too good a time. It was difficult for the group to leave the restaurant, and leave Hackettstown, knowing that we would not have the opportunity to do this again until the spring of 2016. Since time moves faster the older we get, it remains an unspoken truth that our first drive of the New Year will be here soon enough. To a man, we can’t wait.
History was made on Saturday, October 17, 2015, when the New York Mets (sorry, wrong blog) the Sunday Morning Driving Club went out for a ride, and changed all the rules. What exactly did we do? We drove on a Saturday (for the first time); we scheduled a breakfast AND a lunch (for the first time); we visited the Jersey Shore (for the first time); and we allowed drivers to invite their Significant Others along for the experience (for the last time; sorry, wrong blog – for the first of what we are sure will be many more times).
As best as we know, all the participating husbands and wives were still married to each other at the end of the day. Seriously, we think the ladies enjoyed themselves, and got a taste of the genuine fun we men have had for years, namely, riding through beautiful scenery in interesting cars, and sitting down for a hearty meal with affable and like-minded people.
The formal part of the day started at the Bridgewater Diner in Bridgewater, NJ. Changing with past tradition, attendees arrived on their own between 9 a.m. and 10 a.m. and fortified themselves with good local diner food. By 10:30 a.m., after a few who skipped breakfast but were joining the group arrived, we were out of the parking lot, embarking on the first half of the day’s drive. This 30-mile-route, dotted with fall foliage, took us along the Millstone River, through the farmland of Monmouth County, into the historic village of Cranbury, and eventually to a Wawa pit stop, sorely needed by the men after all that diner coffee.
Ted’s 911 (the C7 was not with us)
The men hanging out at Wawa
Proof that Ford F-Series are larger than Alfas
This deserved Wawa-stop allowed us time to hang and chat in the parking lot. Old friends caught up with each other, new friends were made, and Bill Whited bought gas. After sufficient time was given for life’s necessities, the lead Alfa driven by your humble servant (who assigned the 90-horsepower car to lead??), with 11 other cars in caravan, headed east on Route 33 for the second leg of our drive – a 25-mile straight shot to the seaside resort town of Ocean Grove.
New friends (?) are made
Bill’s C1 after fill-up
The ladies smile for the camera
We allowed plenty of time for folks to find parking and wander along the picturesque Main Ave. before our 1:30 lunch reservation at The SeaGrass restaurant. Our table was set and ready for us ten minutes early, and our rowdy crowd was ably handled solo by one young waitress who, to her credit, smiled through the whole ordeal. The food was excellent, and more than one person in our party remarked that while not expecting to be hungry after breakfast, the food at The SeaGrass was too good to pass up.
We line up in Ocean Grove
Angela & Rich discuss the menu
We patiently await our food
It bears mentioning that as the popularity of our drive events has grown, participants have told friends, who have told friends…. For this drive, we had two drivers who were with us for the first time. Several others had only made their first trips with us earlier this year. By my count, half of today’s drivers are people I’ve met through other drivers. It’s been rewarding to see the group grow in this fashion.
Julio’s Dodge
Bill’s Corvette
Cory’s Corvette
Nick’s Mustang
Lunch was over by 3 p.m. The shoppers delayed their departures so they could wander through the many gift shops in Ocean Grove. Others hit the road in order to get back home before the ever-earlier darkness closed the day. Overall, our many “firsts” combined to make this drive one of our most successful, read, enjoyable outings yet.
“I don’t know about tomorrow. I’m driving right now and there’s nothing but dark clouds overhead.”
“The weather forecast is for heavy showers through tonight, and cloudy with showers all day Sunday.”
“One report I heard said that the showers may hold off. Let’s talk again later.”
“OK. I’ll call you after dinner.”
8 p.m. Saturday: Larry and Rich talk by phone:
“Forecast isn’t looking good. What should we do?”
“No one is going to want to drive in the rain. Should we cancel?”
“Let’s see what it’s like at 6 a.m. Worse case, we get together and just have breakfast locally.”
At 9 p.m. on Saturday night, the National Weather Service was calling for Sunday’s weather in the entirety of New Jersey to be completely cloudy, with the likelihood of showers increasing throughout the day. But at 7 a.m. Sunday morning, the sky was mostly blue, with scattered high clouds. Be prepared to ignore the weatherman when you’re planning a Sunday morning breakfast run!
“When I was your age, I bought a Z-28 for $1,500!”
In all, eleven brave souls brought out their cars for what turned out to be a spectacular morning. Several in the crowd were with us for the first time. And in what must have been a first for our group, the European sporting machines outnumbered the American iron, 7 to 4! The Germans were well-represented by Peter’s 911 (with son Jonathan navigating), Danek’s Audi R8, and the “almost twin” BMWs of Jeff (Z3) and Rob (Z3M). The UK flag was flown by Rich S in his MGB and Rich L in his Jaguar F-Type. Rounding out the cars from the Old Country, your humble scribe proved once again that the words “reliable” and “1967 Alfa Romeo” can be spoken in the same sentence.
Peter’s Porsche 911
Danek’s Audi R8
Jeff’s BMW Z3
Rob’s BMW Z3M
The MGB of Rich S
The Jag F-Type of Rich L
It’s usually “Chevys Rule” at these events, but the only Chevys today were Larry’s Camaro, and Bill’s new (to him) ’61 Corvette, making its Sunday morning inaugural run with us. The ‘vette also had the distinction of the oldest car participating. Ralphie’s tried-and-true Buick convertible was back, and Julio debuted (to us) his hot ’66 Dodge Coronet.
Larry’s Camaro
Bill’s C1 Corvette
Ralphie’s Buick
All eyes on Julio’s Dodge Coronet
Once our stragglers arrived, we were able to push off by 8:45, with the Readington Diner as our destination. Our route took us down Route 287 and into Morristown, where we met our first challenge: the roads around the Morristown Green were closed for a bicycle race, forcing us into a detour. Further on in Chester, a street fair gave us some minor issues. However, the weatherman could not have been more wrong, and the sunshine only added to the joy of driving the winding country roads through the towns of Mendham, Long Valley, and Oldwick. After an unscheduled pitstop to use the toilets and refill the cars (in that order), we arrived at the diner on Route 22 by 10:45.
True to form, Rich S again assumed the duties of the traveling photographer, thinking nothing of pulling his MGB alongside another car on 287 and jutting his camera skyward, taking pictures while managing to stay in his lane. With his permission, these 3 photos below taken by Rich S are posted here:
Chase that Alfa!
Late summer in central NJ
The diner food must wait…
When 12 hungry guys order breakfast, the orders are as varied as our cars. And you would think that with food on our minds, each of us would remember our selection. But it doesn’t always work that way. The waitress showed up with the first plate: “Awright, who had the #3 with eggs sunny-side?” No one said a word. Her patience ran out after 15 seconds and she put the plate down. Rich S said “we’re not very good at this part, are we?”, to which we laughingly agreed. Eventually, everyone had a plate in front of them, with food approximating their order. No one left hungry. Coffee service continued well after the last morsels were consumed. The wait staff was generously compensated for their attentiveness.
“What are you getting?” “I don’t know, what are you getting?”
The diner has a large parking area in the back, and the joint wasn’t overly crowded, so we had all parked together. As we exited, we asked several gentlemen nearby if they would take some group photos for us, and they happily obliged. Lots of smiles, handshakes, hugs, and of course, cries for a repeat event before year’s end brought our September breakfast run to a cheerful conclusion.
The morning of Sunday, July 12, 2015, dawned sunny and temperate. The promised heat was still a few hours away as 10 cars and 13 participants gathered at our usual meeting spot, the Sheraton Crossroads Hotel in Mahwah NJ, for our planned breakfast drive.
The first arrivals were on site by 8am. We were “all in” by 8:30am and caravanning by 8:35, headed to Cold Spring NY. Cars built by General Motors were again predominantly represented by Bill’s C6 Corvette, Larry’s Z28 Camaro, Ted’s boat, er, Eldorado, and Ralphie’s Buick Skylark.
Ted’s ’66 Caddy Eldorado convertible
Ralphie’s Buick Skylark convertible
Larry’s ’94 Camaro Z28
Bill’s C6 Corvette
We had two Mustangs this time, both driven by Nick! Nick D piloted the white convertible while Nick S drove the grey coupe. The only MoPar again wasn’t a car, it was a Viper. It was also a last-minute substitution as Rich S intended to drive his V8-equipped Alfa spider, but “something” was causing a rear tire to rub. And your author’s Alfa had European company from Peter’s 911 and Jeff’s BMW Z3. Enzo, Rich L, and Bob P hitched rides with willing drivers. (Jeff, in a most humanitarian gesture, allowed Enzo to drive his Z3.)
Nick D’s Mustang
Nick S’s Mustang
Rich S’s Viper
Peter’s Porsche 911
Jeff’s 2000 BMW Z3
Your author’s 1967 Alfa Romeo
Fish tales before breakfast again!
Lined up and (almost) ready to roll
EC drives Jeff’s BMW, decides it’s not Italian enough
Larry led the charge through Seven Lakes Drive, across the Bear Mountain Bridge, then north into Cold Spring. We were at our spot, the Silver Spoon Café, ten minutes early. Nevertheless, our table was ready and waiting for us. Terry met us there, having ridden his bike from home nearby, so 14 hungry men sat down for a good breakfast. It was our first time to this restaurant, and high marks all around for the food, the coffee, and the service. Thanks, ladies!
On our way
Rich drives AND takes photos from the Viper
No one was in a rush to leave the table, and the staff was in no rush to show us the door. In fact, they kept coming ‘round and filling mugs long after the bill was paid. When we finally made it back outside, the temperature had kicked up considerably. The group still continued to mingle on the sidewalk in front of the café for a few more minutes, and several of us also took advantage of a tour through the charming town of Cold Spring, either on foot or by car.
All 13 of us (with me hiding behind the lens)
For several participants, it was their first time out with us, and they’re threatening to return. Given that it’s the middle of the summer vacation season, we still had a great turnout from the regulars. We always say the same thing: “It’s about time we did this again!” And so we will. We’re already perusing the calendar for an August repeat.
Nine cars + eleven people = a very successful inaugural 2015 Breakfast drive. After the winter we had endured in the Northeast, those of us with collector cars were itchin’ to drive, so we managed to organize a Sunday run a bit earlier in the season than usual. We typically don’t get out for the first run until May or sometimes June.
Bright early sun at our Mahwah Sheraton meeting place.
The usual pre-breakfast fish stories.
The weather cooperated: blue sky and plenty of sunshine, although with temps in the 50s, it was cooler than it had been on Saturday, when we had mid-to-upper 70s. Almost everyone (Ted!) in a convertible drove top-down, and with a slight twist of the heater dial, it was plenty comfortable.
Destination today was Granny’s Pancake House on Route 23 in Hamburg NJ. We’ve been there before, and the ample parking combined with a waiting table (nothing like calling ahead) had us gulping coffee within minutes of arriving.
To the cars: if we’re counting (we are), GM product ruled the day, and Chevrolet ruled within there. We had two Corvettes: the marvelously original C1 driven by Burton Hall (who I believe has owned this car for close to 50 years), and the silver C6 of Bill Whited’s (who somehow seems to bring a different ‘Vette to every run). The other Chevys were both Camaros: Paul Dohrmann’s beautiful ’69 which he completely restored himself, and Larry Mihok’s 1994 Camaro, which serves him equally well as daily driver and collector car. Larry had plenty of company with Steve Sargent riding shotgun.
Burton’s C1 Corvette.
Bill’s C6 Corvette.
Paul’s ’69 Camaro.
Larry’s ’94 Camaro.
“Ralphie from Englewood” drove his ’67 Buick Skylark convertible, a solid-looking survivor and a model you do not see with any frequency. Ted Kadala (with neighbor Julio along for the ride) drove his ’66 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, a car so big I had to jog a quarter mile away to get it all on camera.
Ralph’s ’67 Buick.
Ted’s ’66 Cadillac.
One FoMoCo product was present, and Nick Dragone proudly waved the Blue Oval flag with his 2014 Mustang. Nick was all too happy to show us his new Borla exhaust and Airaid cold air intake. The one MoPar car wasn’t a car: it was a GREEN Viper. Rich Stavridis looked splendid behind its wheel, and claims he would have driven his ‘new to him’ Alfa had it not just gotten off the truck the other night. The only import car on the drive today was your author’s 1993 Mazda Miata; he had every intention to drive his Alfa (still would have been the only import) but the front suspension rebuild is not quite completed.
Nick’s ’14 Mustang.
Rich’s Dodge
Viper.
The author’s ’93 Miata.
Despite occasional harassment from a few of the hungry old men, the waitress service at Granny’s was top-notch. Breakfast was pretty good too. We parted ways by 11 a.m., and promised we would make every effort to drive again as soon as we can get our collective acts together. Perhaps next month.
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