1 CORINTHIANS 13:11

 

My fascination with the convertible model of the Bentley automobile goes back nearly three quarters of a century. The dream took on even greater significance when, at 21 years of age, I was finally given the opportunity to drive one.

It was the fall of 1959. Then a recent graduate of the University of Southern California, I was working in the MGM mailroom, my first job in show business. I had been married since that January of my senior year and the upcoming Labor Day holiday provided enough time off from my new job to allow my new bride and me to take advantage of an invitation to come to Seattle, for a weekend visit with her paternal grandmother and her uncle’s family, the Langs of Washington State.

It was at Seattle’s posh Olympic Club where my wife’s uncle arranged for my introduction to the oyster. Later, I was taken on a tour of the family car collection. It was an impressive assemblage and the beginning of a great weekend.

For three straight days, when I was not pounding back the mollusks, I sat serenely behind the wheel of Uncle Richard’s 1959 Bentley Continental convertible. My love affair with the Bentley automobile goes back to that long-ago holiday in the Pacific Northwest.

In the decades that have passed I have owned a ‘57 T-Bird, a ‘65 Mustang convertible, a 3.8 Jaguar sedan, a couple of roadsters by Mercedes, the phenomenal Phaeton by Volkswagen, as well as a rare luxury sedan hand crafted by esteemed German racing car driver, Erich Bitter. They were fine cars, but all paled in comparison to the memory of that Bentley in Seattle.

Forty years after that initial exposure to the Lang automobile collection I was on the cusp of purchasing my own Bentley convertible, a 1998 Azure. The cost of that magnificent creation was well into six figures. That gave me pause… such an acquisition would put a major dent in my savings account. I was newly retired. Ensconced on my tropical Island paradise, there was no denying that a lot of money was going out with little coming in.

My middle daughter wanted to know why I was having such a tough time with this decision, and why I had selected her as my consultant on the subject.

I explained that this was a lot of money to come out of savings… and life-long dreams aside… such a hefty withdrawal could impact her (and her siblings) eventual inheritance. Her response was quick, and to the point:

“Dad, if you can buy a dream for money… you should do it.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

Months later, as I drove, top-down in the silver Azure, on Main Street in the resort town of Solvang, California, my daughter, who was following in her own car, was heard to say to her younger sister, “… Look at Dad. He’s in his own parade.”

Could be the slogan for my life… 

Except for now, as I find myself parked at one of life’s true benchmarks: I am seriously considering giving up my car, the last of my Bentley acquisitions: a Midnight Emerald Bentley GTC.

Of equal impact is the decision that since I am 86 years of age, there is no rational reason to replace it. It is not that I am not as good a driver as I was… a point I will grudgingly concede. Still, I am a better driver than most… certainly superior to the drivers of my adopted State of Florida, who are (arguably) the worst in the entire country.

It is not the driving… it is the seeing. Not the eyesight (which admittedly is not as sharp at night as it used to be), but what is bothersome is the stiffness in my neck which prevents me from turning my head enough to overcome the built-in blind spots when the top is raised on my vintage 2007 convertible.

There are possibilities I have considered: a new car, for instance. Unlike my aged classic, the current models all come with bells and whistles that compensate for blind spots, no matter what the cause. Those built-in cameras, complete with sound effects that let the driver know what is in the next lane, or even if the car is near anything… or anybody… or any place where it should not be. This new technology has the potential to solve my everyday driving issues.

But what kind of a new car? In the 21^st century I have driven nothing but cars by Bentley. I am spoiled by the interior appointments, the luxurious leathers, and wood combinations created and installed by the finest craftsman in the world. There is the weight of the car and its power. The smell of it. The sound of its engine. I am just not going to be happy in a Buick.

A day never goes by on city streets or the blue-lane highways of my many road adventures, that I have not received a thumbs-up from some youngster in an adjoining vehicle, a guy on a motorcycle, or someone standing on a corner. At more than one gas station, grown men have been known to give me a little salute while I busied myself pumping fuel into my magnificent machine.

Over the years, women have handed me their business card as I waited, top-down, for a light to change, or while idling in a parking lot. That happens less frequently than the thumbs-up affirmations, but still, it has occurred more often than you might imagine.

And so, we are once again talking six figures, and for what? Six more months or so of driving? At 86, I do not think I am looking at six more years.

And what about giving up driving altogether? In the era of Uber it is a viable alternative. I tell myself that it will be all right. That I can… must really… make that accommodation. I remind myself that adjustments are my long suit.

Still, dreams die hard. So, just in case there is a change of heart on my part, and you see me tooling by in my Bentley with the top down, humor me with a thumbs-up, or a wave. Of course, should the top be in the raised position you might want to think about taking a defensive posture, giving the Bentley… and me… a wide berth.

 

Barney Rosenzweig