Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

 The Blog is taking off for the Holidays.  May yours be warm and happy.

    In the meantime there's a ton of goodies here. Scroll down for the wacky wonderful Coneheads at Silverstone. Or the flip side of that madness to the days of dope and meditation in The Volvo Years.

         if you missed the all-time-record-breaking-hit- monster blog, The Real Allard Story:give it a click.  No, I lied; last week's  tribute to the women who are as"sweet as honey and smile at you like you're made of money," attracted even more hits. And If you missed the 1979 Polish Grand Prix now's your chance.

Or, click on bob judd on the top of this page or slip down the right hand column to click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky.   Or The Kythera Chronicles to shake hands with Barbarossa.

Or just cruise through the links on the lower right hand side of this page, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like  an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone, Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. 

       You wouldn't want to miss My Short Happy War in Afghanistan

 

             Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.

              Or Uncle John's Prayer.

               Or Clarence Judd Head-Butts a Truck.  Truck dies. That's a good one. 

             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story.

               Then Virgin calls, and Forrest goes to Hollywood to star with an Electric car. And Forrest does a shoot in bed with Virgin. That one is a lot of fun. 

                Although, you might want to take a look at Pheromone Dreams to see what they are doing in bed in front of a film crew. While you're there it's just a short hop to Nurse Pelvis. 

            Or take a dip in the world's largest concrete freshwater free municipal swimming pool.

           And for a fine rainy afternoon divertimento, click on my dance with a prima ballerina.

 

              For a tasty bite with bon mots check out my friend, Gerry Freeman's foodie blog as  Hungry Gerald.heads for London and Paris.

             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.

             Enjoy, Have a ball.  See you Monday, January 3.

Where to play while the blog is off fooling around

The blog is off  and will return Monday.  But if you missed the all-time-record-breaking-hit- monster blog, The Real Allard Story:give it a click.  And If you missed the 1979 Polish Grand Prix now's your chance.

Or, click on bob judd on the top of this page or click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky.   Or The Kythera Chronicles to shake hands with Barbarossa.

Or just cruise through the links on the lower right hand side of this page, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like  an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone, Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. 

 

             Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.

              Or Uncle John's Prayer.

               Or Clarence Judd Head-Butts a Truck.  Truck dies. That's a good one. 

             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story 

             You really should visit Hiltonpond.org for fabulous pictures of hawks and hummingbirds with the science to back up the beauty. And for a fine rainyafternoon divertimento, click on my dance with a prima ballerina.

 

              For a tasty bit with bon mots check out my friend, Gerry Freeman's death defying foodie blog Hungry Gerald.

             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.

             Enjoy, Have a ball.  See you Monday. Bob

How Film Director Morgan Hutchins got his name

Me and my Allard, watching traffic outside the new flat

         I'd never realized until I was shuffling through some stuff and saw the photo on the left. I thought I'd just made it up, had had an idea for the incoming kid's name out of the blue. 

        Laurence must have shot that picture with my camera that sunny afternoon when we drove over to see Laurence and Pat Hutchin’s new flat on Pond Street across from the Royal Free Hospital.   Pat was expecting their first child in a few weeks and their new flat in Hampstead was a big step up. Pat was beautiful and Laurence was handsome. They were both gifted artists and the kid was going to be a great kid.

Karen twirls her Isadora Duncan scarf as
Bob gets the cover out of the boot in case of rain.

         Pat was on her way to being famous for her first children's book, Rosie’s Walk and world famous for her more than 25 books, novels and plays .  Laurence was an art director at JWT and would be famous as a commercial film director. Here’s a beauty called The Red Balloon he did for a new town called Milton Keynes.

           So they were just beginning careers that would take them all over the world and happily expecting their first child.  But they couldn’t agree on a name.  They knew the baby would be a boy, but John or Alan or Henry or William, or Keith . . . they’d been squabbling  about names for months and getting nowhere. Both of them stubborn as mules.  Or, more accurately, as stubborn as artists. 

Proud Daddy making a silly face. Pat with Morgan a wee bump.

             Their flat had a spectacular view and a small terrace where we looked out over London as had lunch and wine.  They both kept trying to get us to choose a name that the other one didn’t like.  And out of the blue I said, “how about Morgan?”  Pat liked it because morgan means morning in German. And Laurence liked it because it was the name of a roarty British sports car. 

           But who knew that the London Film Director, Morgan Hutchins, who is working on his first feature (‘The Postman’ Written by Harry Hill,) was named by a car that was blue.

Fooling around while the blog sleeps

                       The blog is taking the weekend off and will return Monday.  But if you missed the all-time-record-breaking-hit- monster blog, The Real Allard Story:give it a click.  And If you missed the 1979 Polish Grand Prix now's your chance.

Or, click on bob judd on the top of this page or click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky.   Or The Kythera Chronicles to shake hands with Barbarossa.

Or just cruise through the links on the lower right hand side of this page, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like  an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone, Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. 

 

             Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.

              Or Uncle John's Prayer.

 

               Or Clarence Judd Head-Butts a Truck.  Truck dies. That's a good one. 

             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story 

 

             You really should visit Hiltonpond.org for fabulous pictures of hawks and hummingbirds with the science to back up the beauty. And for a fine rainyafternoon divertimento, click on my dance with a prima ballerina.

 

              For a tasty bit with bon mots check out my friend, Gerry Freeman's death defying foodie blog Hungry Gerald.

             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.

             Enjoy, Have a ball.  See you Monday. Bob

Foothill Allards

Karen and The Anteater in Sicily

         My J2 was not my first Allard, it was my third.  The first was an M2X my wife Karen called "The Anteater."  We bought it to drive it to Sicily and back to London.  Little boys in short pants in the mountain villages where they ran the Targa Florio ran alongside yelling "spydro, spydro."  Like spider, like exotic racer.  I had no idea how rare it was; only 25 were built.  We drove the wheels off it.

          The second Allard is another story.  It was a 1947 K-1, baby blue.  Perfect I thought for driving up to the Magnolia Country Club with Linda Darnell.  (In real life, Rheingold beer baron Philip Liebman wooed Linda D by dropping diamond trinkets on her lawn from a small plane.  She married him for a few weeks)

You have to admire Sydney Allard's exuberance.  In 1946, the year after WW ll ended, Britain was in ruins, exhausted and Sydney has this happy, perky room for you and me baby V-8 rolling out of his Brixton Garage. My '47 K-1 was rumoured to have had a part in Genevieve   "one of the best British comedies ever...cannot be missed" "Great wit and sly humor" The K1 had a bit part, it gets bashed from behind by another car.  Mine had a mildly crumped rear end so it may have been the same car.

I sold it to Ken Nichol, the aerodynamic physicist I'd met with his wife Sue on The France.  He made the lovely maple dash.

  And sold it back to me for 75 pounds.  Maybe to make up for the money he lost betting on our horse, Darling Lass. That's Ken and Sue, discussing their next bet at The Oaks where Darling Lass came in third in a four horse race.

Last I heard the K-1was in West Virginia. Restored, pampered, painted some other color, wearing shameless wire wheels.  Probably rolling up, on sunny weekends, to the Magnolia Country Club.  She never calls, never writes.

She was so much fun to play with