We will probably make an appearance at the Scottish Home Picnic on Saturday, August 7.
The British Home / Daughters of the Empire have requested that we appear in September, but we’re trying to understand if there are any scheduling conflicts.
2007 British Car Union & Triumph Herald Cabriolet (timeless)
British Car Union, Oakton Community College, Des Plaines, Illinois
We may also be making an appearance at one of the regularly scheduled car shows in the area when they hold “British Night” or Import Night” if we can round up dancers and a bagpiper.
2009 Oak Park Avenue British Car Show & 1957 "Hot Rod" MGA
Parting ways can be very hard, especially for a car like my Mini. But it’s time. I need to let go of it and find someone new to give it some loving. Affectionately kept, it’s a 1977 “R” registration (with British plates) Mini Clubman Estate. The serial badge says that it was made by Austin-Morris. It is driven from the proper side of the car, from the right hand side; and has a new muffler, motor mounts, shifter rebuild and paint. The carpeting is newer, it is highly presentable. The odometer reads 27,000 miles, probably true for the motor, which is a very strong runner.
But it’s time. And breaking up is so hard to do.
If you know of a good home for a 1977 Mini Clubman Estate – red, with a white roof, suitable for many sports teams including the Calgary Flames and the Calgary Stampeders, though friends have pointed out that a couple slight modifications would also make it suitable for the Montreal Canadiens – an excellent parade car, and a head turner where ever it goes, please contact me: info (at) babuk.com . It’s being offered at a highly reasonable price for a quick sale.
Harlem and Divison Auto Repair in Oak Park looks after my Mini. Bob, John & staff take good care of it for me. They work on all kinds of cars, people seem to bring their “unique” cars there for service.
In taking my Mini to Harlem and Division the other day, it was noted that while I own the smallest car they service; the largest car they service, a 1960 Cadillac Fleetwood Limousine, was in for repairs. I couldn’t help but photograph the two. The shop even moved other vehicles out of the way to help stage the photo. But then, I think that they may have had problems putting the Cadillac on the rack without the tailfins puncturing something once it got lifted in the air. My Mini, on the other hand, has to be driven carefully onto the rack. It has such a narrow gauge between tires that there is a concern that the rails on the rack may not be spaced close enough together to prevent my Mini from slipping in between the two guiderails.
An optical illusion, the Mini actually appears larger than the Cadillac
According to the laws of perspective, if something – like a small car like my Mini – is in front, it will automatically appear larger than anything behind it. My Mini still can’t hide this behemoth. To be fair, it ought to be noted that my Mini is actually an Estate model, the “stretch” version, if you will.
Tinkerbelle vs Jane Russell
It was kind of like the difference between Tinkerbelle and Jane Russell.
A recent television news series spoke of development of a new electric automobile. It appeared odd that the person interviewed wore the title of “Product Development Architect”. Many in the software industry also wear titles denoting some sort of “architect”, though they’ve never been exposed to issues dealing with public well being, building envelope issues, and professional licensure by a public entity or even (irk!) liability.
We tend to think of architects as trained and licensed professionals who work with stone and concrete, and who understand builders’ lien laws. Architecture is regulated in some fashion by governing jurisdictions, and only certain individuals – usually distinguished by education, experience and examination – may wear the title “Architect” or practice “Architecture”.
Although one side of me is elated that this person wore the title “product development architect” as opposed to “product development engineer”; still, how would someone who designs software or leads a product development initiative think that they could be called an architect?
Perhaps, in taking one portion of the practice of architecture – visionary project leadership – and forgetting about the legalese, one might craft a definition of ‘architect’ that could describe this position. But that’s just dealing with the people who want to wear this title, what about the practice of architecture?
Architecture historically has been rooted (no pun intended) in solid buildings with form foundations tied to the earth. While many professionally licensed architects have been responsible for designing and producing items ranging from tea kettles (Michael Graves) to aircraft interiors (Cambridge Seven) to farm tractors (Clifford Wiens), those actions have never been termed “architecture”. Mind you, at its introduction, the design of the current Volkswagen Beetle led many to describe it as an “architectural” car.
Is this architecture?
However, in describing architecture as a machine for living, perhaps the object isn’t to limit who may be an architect. Rather the object may be to expand the definition and scope of what is architecture, allowing architecture to move beyond structures rooted in the earth built of masonry or steel.
And that may be good for society’s overall growth and advancement
A previous post described “if walls could talk”, but what about if buildings could walk?
It’s not that far fetched an idea.
Taking cues from the railroad industry, it wasn’t uncommon at the turn of the 20th century to find fixed structures – buildings – with large moving parts.
Bridges were prime examples.
It took the use of steel used as structure to give rise to this. The first structure built of steel was a bridge built in 1775 over the River Severn near Coalbrookdale, Shropshire, in the western midlands of England – the “Iron Bridge” as it’s called today. Steel was a lighter-weight material that permitted more flexibility in shape than did masonry, with the advantage of superior strength when compared to wood. Moving ahead a century or so, shipping lanes along rivers located on flat plains required a way for bridges – built relatively low to the ground – to be built so as to give way to permit relatively tall shipping traffic to pass.
Turntable Bridge, Chicago, 1898
Confining this description to bridges found in Chicago: some of the first bridges designed for this were turntable bridges. There still are a couple of these left in Chicago. They are configured as steel trusses set onto a central pier in the middle of the river. Train tracks were built inside the truss structure. When shipping lanes were needed, train traffic would come to a stop, and the entire truss – hundreds of feet or dozens of metres long – would rotate around this pier.
Pennsylvania RR Bridge, Chicago, 1908
Turntable bridges had their limitations, not the least of which was the central pier becoming an obstruction in a shipping lane. Finding ways to raise bridge sections vertically, rather than rotating them horizontally, became the issue at hand. Those types of bridges appear in all sorts of variants. Some have a truss spanning between two towers, this central truss raises and lowers between the towers. Still others rotate truss sections vertically to give clearance along the waterways, the most dramatic examples are those with truss structures raised above, rather than below the track bed.
Western Avenue Pennsylvania RR Bridge, Chicago, 1907
Beyond bridges, other railway structures rotated (roundhouses with turntables) and lifted materials (coal towers and granaries).
The SS France – a complete floating community of thousands of people
Railways – and shipping lines – gave rise to buildings – entire communities – that were mobile. It could be possible for one to live their entire life on an ocean liner; all lodging and dietary needs cared for in addition to entertainment, recreation, socializing, even employment and well being. In a stretch, one may make the same case for a transcontinental train.
The Walking City, Archigram
Going back to our history lesson studying some of the early modernist architects: many – like Le Corbusier – had a vision of “buildings as machines”. Looking to what’s traditionally defined as architecture, this concept taken to mean “buildings that move” really hasn’t come to pass, save for a couple amusement park rides, or visionary works from think tanks like Archigram.
In a mobile society, having one house that could move with its occupants could be a sustainable concept. It reinforces the notion of small housing, since that would take less energy to move around. Part of one’s housing could be detachable and self propelled for personal transportation. Perhaps a workplace concept also becomes something that one takes with them and “plugs in” to a workplace community.
Last year at this time, the weather in Chicago seemed practically like summer. It gave rise to theories of global warming. But it was absolutely beautiful weather.
Parade Marshalls – and the Hilton – against a cold, grey sky at noon
This year, it has come to be very chilly, very suddenly. No global warming this year.
Take this year’s Columbus Day Parade – which actually celebrates Canadian Thanksgiving, but no one has caught on to that. It was downright chilly. At least it wasn’t windy. It was a very grey, urbane looking day, with the kind of sky and sunlight that make Mies van der Rohe’s buildings sparkle. And Chicago has a lot of Mies buildings.
2009 Fiat 500, in white2009 Fiat 500, in black
Through the marching bands, the floats, the people and whatnot, what caught my eye were two brand new Fiat 500’s, brought in from Detroit by Chrysler, now owned by Fiat. They may have been shorter than my Mini – quite a feat! Definitely higher, though.
After the parade, as everyone from the Thistle and Heather Highland Dancers sought to collect their odds and ends out of the Mini, a parade of vintage Italian cars passed by. They were the best! Low and behold, what happened to be in the middle of the Italian car parade but… a vintage Fiat 500!
When North American cities were first developing, we commuted on foot. It had its limitations, was endured during inclement weather, but gave us exercise.
Various forms of mass transit came to be, which allowed for a larger commute area. The commute in to work became something social: one could converse with their neighbours and colleagues, perhaps read the morning newspaper. Eventually, some trains had “commuter cars” so one could enjoy a cup of coffee on the way in.
Eventually, public transit systems were allowed to decline, in favour of individual transit – the private automobile. This mode of transportation had a sense of excitement about it, because of its newness, and giddiness. One could propel themselves along a “freeway” type of road –previously unseen – in a vehicle that looked more and more like a spaceship with chrome and fins. And one didn’t need to share it, this was theirs to display. At first, it made even longer commute times enjoyable.
But, like all things new, the private motorcar on the freeway experience came to be old hat. Commute times lengthened, we were living further and further away from work. And the private motorcars themselves came to be, well, monotonous. They lost their imaginative zeal and came to look the same.
Which describes a modern-day predicament.
Transit systems seem to be on the way up, however. Maybe we’ll go back to the day of travelling en masse and getting to know our neighbours on the way in to work.
Time was, driving was a fun recreation. From a casual Sunday excursion, to a cross country trip, to something energetic like Nascar racing, the experience generated by being catapulted through ever changing scenery was exciting.
A happy way to commute…
Automotive design enhanced the experience. Swooping masses of sheet metal clad in bright colours, outlined in shiny chrome, housed behemoth power plants and sumptuous interiors swathed in deluxe upholstery.
It was a see and be seen experience. People actually drove with their windows down, weather permitting. That morning commute into work just didn’t seem half bad.
But then, the morning commute was far shorter then than it may be now. The US Census Bureau has since started to measure the number of “extreme commuters” who spend more than 90 minutes a trip commuting from home to work. Regardless how fanciful one’s wheels may be, that much time down the same roads in the same traffic day in and day out can’t help but become dreary.
And dreary may best describe current automotive design. Body styles are generated by current trends in wind tunnel testing; cars are distinguishable only by slight nuances in wrinkles or folds along sheet metal. Grey – or rather, silver – is a popular colour. Interiors offer much the same choice, perhaps with a cloth or leather option; higher priced cars sport two toned colour schemes.
Given parameters, powerplants have improved but that may signal the difference in concept. New powerplants exhibit engineering prowess, as does the styling. Styling – for the sake of styling – played a larger role when the morning commute was still fun.
Imagine the morning commute in this !
Still doesn’t say why we started living ninety minutes away.
1965 Chrysler Crown Imperial Convertible, obviously different than my Mini
Once, in a fit to buy an inexpensive though highly presentable company car for my practice, I came across a restored 1965 Chrysler Crown Imperial convertible. Trouble is, we live on that side of Oak Park where garages are accessible off of alleys; our alley surveys at sixteen feet (about 5.2) metres across. I thought that I’d wedge the thing in between neighbour’s fences. Something like that once happened to me on a trip into a McDonald’s near the New Jersey Turnpike, though that is quite a different story than what I’m presenting here. However, remember my previous posts about our cities being designed around the size of our automobiles – good example.
An alley in Oak Park
Otherwise, Oak Park has some very well kept alleys that could make great “mews” style lanes.
My previous post about Laneway Houses in Vancouver prompted a brisk walk to look at other coach houses in Oak Park. As mentioned, current Village policy has it that accessory spaces connected to garages are acceptable, water service to that accessory building is not. Further, anyone living in a building accessory to the main building on a parcel of land constitutes a second family on that parcel, or a “multi family” situation. Some very large parcels of land that historically were built with coach houses fronting onto the street have seen that land parcel subdivided over the years, so that the original coach house is officially a separate house on its own.
A recent, local newspaper story spoke of the first garage built in Oak Park. Only Oak Park would recognize such a thing, but it was built to house a fellow’s Locomobile Steamer in 1898. This was a very nouveau idea for a new fangled invention; larger houses on larger land parcels here in “distant” suburbs were more likely to have horse stables with haylofts.
Formerly stables, now a garage
There are a couple examples in Oak Park of former horse stables, with what would have been hay-lofts above. There’s undoubtedly some sort of Village ordinance in these modern times prohibiting people keeping horses on their property, though one may have as many three dogs. Fancy dog houses aside, former horse stables have either been demolished or converted into garages for cars.
An elaborate coach house, now a single family residence
There are several examples of large houses with separate “motor garage” coach houses that have access from a street. Many of these land parcels have been subdivided, so that the former coach house is a residence unto its own.
There are new garages being built in with accessory space. One client approached me about building a large garage in his backyard, an upstairs space to accommodate his 10,000 volume library collection. While it didn’t require water service, putting that much weight above a long span structure doesn’t come inexpensively. The project never got off the ground.
During a recent Scottish Motor Club event, a visitor asked the question “what cars are there are still British made and British owned?”
2003 Lotus Elise
We rattled off all sorts of British companies and marques with disappoint results. MG isn’t. Jaguar and Rover are both owned by the Indian company, TATA. For the moment, Vauxhall is owned by General Motors, but part of the German company Opel, which is being courted by both Canadian and Russian concerns. MINI is part of BMW. Aston Martin is Ford, but like Vauxhall, that will probably change. It was all quite confusing, but made for a good conversation.
The Ageless Bristol Blenheim
The only two British made automobiles by British owned companies we could muster are both fairly exotic.
Lotus – a company with race car heritage producing small, lightweight, fiberglass body speedsters with powerful engines that send one making an impression on their seatbacks whenever the accelerator is depressed, and;
Bristol – a company that produced legendary fighter planes during the Second World War that retooled to produce motorcars that are luxurious, powerful and thrilling, all at once.
The Lotus marque – though produced in limited numbers – is sold through a worldwide dealer network, while the Bristol is sold directly by the manufacturer, their only “showroom” of sorts is a storefront in London. There is far more demand for Bristol cars than are cars manufactured; test drives are out of the question.
Parting ways can be very hard, especially for a car like my Mini. But it’s time. I need to let go of it and find someone new to give it some loving. Affectionately kept, it’s a 1977 “R” registration (with British plates) Mini Clubman Estate. The serial badge says that it was made by Austin-Morris. It is driven from the proper side of the car, from the right hand side; and has a new muffler, motor mounts, shifter rebuild and paint. The carpeting is newer, it is highly presentable. The odometer reads 27,000 miles, probably true for the motor, which is a very strong runner.
