Chapter 21

Cora

I spent waaay more than I planned on. In the five days while we were waiting on the Royce I shopped away nearly fifty thousand dollars. Dresses, blouses, slacks, underwear ... shoes ... lots of shoes. Clothes for Charles ... and clothes for his alter ego ... Chuck.

Add to that the twenty grand I spent on the Roller: Brakes; new drums, relined shoes, rubber lines, stainless metal lines. The mechanic showed me the almost rusted through old lines and had me poke an icepick through the?metal?. I snapped in half one of the rubber lines. He was able to save the hydraulic brake cylinders but they still took new kits; pistons, seals, springs. Replacing that stuff meant the car had to be New York Auto Safety Regulations compliant.

When they flushed the radiator and block, the silver seal leak powder flushed out too. The radiator had to be recored and the block got new freeze plugs ... excuse me ... block expansion savers.

New York Auto Safety compliance meant modern antifreeze and that meant a new water pump ... that came from England by air freight.

One tail light was cracked; the company that built the bespoke aluminum body had been bombed to flinders during the Blitz. I had no choice but to have the tail light “Hand Crafted” by an artisan.

Oil and filter ... and it really needed it ... were changed. The filter was an add-on, reasonably modern. All the grease Zerks were freed up and every chassis point lubed. The engine was “within factory specifications” ... probably a miracle unless one believed the seven thousand miles on the clock was accurate.

Clutch plate relined, pressure plate rebuilt, flywheel turned, new driveshaft connections, kingpins and bushes, wheel bearings, spoked wheels tuned by a motorcycle expert, new tires and tubes, new heater and hoses, a cracked left side windscreen replaced.

New plugs, wires, cap and rotor ... all new old stock parts from England and flown in.

While they were at it, they steam cleaned the under cart and engine bay.

When presenting the outrageous bill, the chief mechanic mentioned that ... all in all ... the car was in absolutely top notch condition ... considering.

“Considering what?” I asked.

“It’s a genuine Brit ... one hundred and fifty inch wheelbase ... owned by the proverbial little old lady, a Dowager Duchess, and only driven to chapel on Sunday. Because of War restrictions she had no further need of it, She offered it to Sopwith Aeroplane and they, in turn, sold it to finance another Spitfire.

“It was bought during the Blitz by an American General there on a Fact Finding Mission, shipped back to the states during the height of winter U-Boat activity in the hold of an empty liner heading to the states to pick up American Volunteer pilots for the RAF.