In the fall of 1947, I found a 1935 Hudson Terraplane for sale for $35, and bought it. The initial problem was this: the previous owner had attempted to make a convertible 4 door sedan out of it, and after cutting off the top of the car even with the base of the windshield, he had a change of mind. So he welded the top back on, but then the windows wouldn't work, and that's the way I bought it.

I decided the thing to do was replace the body entirely, and disposed of it after removing all body bolts from the frame. Of course it took the help of others to lift it off, and to salvage the seats and instruments to be used in the replacement.

Confident I could find a 4 door body to fit at one of the local salvage yards, I soon found that only one body was available anywhere, and it was a 2 door. There was no choice, so I paid $15 for the 2 door sedan with only one front fender and no seats, and later found out the front fenders from the 4 door wouldn't fit. Taking any other items from the car I might need, we (my friends and I) removed the body from the junk car, leaving the chassis at the yard.

Everything was put in working order, but in all the time we had the car a front fender on the driver's side remained a want not satisfied. Another item we couldn't find was the inside door panel on the passenger side. I cut a piece of fibreboard to make a panel, but had no upholstery material to cover it. Vinci's grandmother volunteered an old flour sack, and we covered the panel with the loudest print material I had ever seen.

A memory forever etched in my mind was dropping Vinci off in downtown Des Moines to do some shopping. She was dressed in high heels and her beautiful fur coat, alighting from a car with only one front fender, with a door opening from the front covered with ugly material. Stepping out onto a crowded street -- what a contradiction it must have seemed to those who saw this.

Another incident in this vein: Vinci and I lived in a small apartment in Ames, Iowa, on the second floor of the home of Eloise and Kenny Kessler. We became very good friends, as Kenny and I were students at Iowa State College. They didn't have a car then, so often on weekends they would accompany us to Des Moines -- their home town as well. But because the 2 door I purchased didn't have seats, I had to install the 4 door seats, meaning the front seat was solid, requiring anyone using the back seat to crawl over to get in or out. This particular Sunday, we were dropping them off at their church. Eloise at the time was about 7 or 8 months pregnant, so to provide a little dignity, Kenny and I would open our topcoats full width to prevent a view of her entry or exit.

For years we laughed when thinking back about these times, and as conservative as we were -- even then -- I can't imagine doing the things we did.

Vinci was pregnant around this time, as was Eloise; our first child was born on December 8, 1947. I was taking her to the hospital that morning, and it was cold with snow covered streets. Cars back then often had mechanical brakes -- true of the '35 Terraplane, and that morning the brake mechanism to the left front wheel was frozen in the engaged position. Not having a front fender on my side, I could watch the left front wheel skidding along the snow covered street, never making one revolution. This required finesse in turning, because it's very difficult to steer unless the front wheels are revolving. But we made it safely, and our son Tom arrived later that day.

Except for the lack of hydraulic brakes and its appearance, the car was a pleasure to drive and served us very well. After transferring to Drake University in Des Moines, we used this gem of an auto until we bought the 1941 Lincoln Zephyr, of which I've previously written.

Oh, the trials and tribulations of those days. Glad we could make them fun.

Copyright 2001 H. Thomas Flanagan