Finally my UK car magazine debut with an article in Classic American, what you were expecting Top Gear. As they say On News Stands Now!
The article is on a very obscure custom car built in the late forties, early fifties called the Fitzpatrick. I was lucky enough to meet the builder when as part of the TV show I produced, we reunited him with his long lost creation, which I might add until the cameras rolled he never saw finished.
It is a great story of a car and a man. The owner, builder was Phil Lacey, a fighter pilot who started flying Mustangs in WWII, Korea, cold war nuclear armed B-57's (USAF version of the British Canberra)and finally part of the famous Doom Pussy (no I didn't make that up) squadron in Vietnam.
Mr. Lacey as a Cadet with Stearman
The car has appeared in print a few times but has been clouded in mystery. This is the first article to get the true story. I was also given access to his original drawings and photographs.
Only down side is that I wrote the article almost two years ago and it is published under my old name.
I am sure I will be sent to Coventry for the title of this post, but Lucas Prince of Darkness made me do it.
My 1972 Lincoln Mark IV is gone and in her place a green sand (hideous colour but it grows on one) 1977 Jaguar XJ-S. My new kitty is a very early model XJ-S with the non HE heads, no wood veneer interior and no chrome bumpers. I actually prefer the look of the prehistoric (pre H.E.) cars, especially with the Kent alloys which will go on the car next spring. The prior owner switched to the eighties style starfish rims.
Long term readers will remember I had an 89 Corvette powered XJS. I guess once they get into your blood…. I swore I would not buy another but this car is the most original unmolested Jaguar I gave ever seen. My father has a couple of XJ 12s and XK8s and my grandfather had an Austin 1300 in this exact colour, so it is only natural I guess.
In praise of the XJ-S. The V12 powered coupe appeared in 19751/2 and was produced through to 1996, a twenty year production run! The XJ-S is comparable to a Ferrari Daytona, a V-12 four seater capable of 140-150 mph top speeds. A girl could get in trouble with this car, heck I am counting on it.
Pictures are taken at the old Canadian head quarters of British Leyland at 4455 Fairview Street in Burlington. So far the town council has ignored my demands for a historic plaque.
In Ontario we are allowed our choice of eight letters on extra cost vanity plates, I wonder if I could get away with APLSPUSY?
carpet is moss green and leather dark cinnamon
Blaupunkt radio with electronic tuning and recording ability, in order to dictate complaints to BL?
On Sunday I bolted up the set of 20 inch KMC SS rims I used to have on my Lincoln Mark IV. Think they look pretty good but I have to revert to a regular all season 235/75R 15s once the snow begins to fly. As they were already mounted and balanced it cost me nothing but an hours labor. I have an old set of Zenith knock off wire wheels that I would like to use as a daily driver set instead of the standard steel rims and hubcaps. See photo. Problem is they need inner tubes, it seems radial inner tube are hard to come by and the few tire "experts" I have spoken to seem to know less than me.
Sorry stole the title of the blog from this way cool site: http://www.wheelsareeverything.com/ Like the photos? not retouched, love the contrast between the metallic brown T-Bird and the lemon lime leaves...psychedelic man!
The T-Bird came with a lot of spares including a new under hood pad, which I installed yesterday. Still a few problems to identify and solve but has been running well. I find the car's front end anthropomorphic, a friendly smile. Stopped by my local coffee shop last night to meet a girlfriend. Staff were taking a break outside as I cruised up in my latest ride, "wow you really love your old cars, when are you bring the white convertible out again" (59 Cadillac). I guess that makes me a regular.
Who is kidding who, hormones are truly better living through chemistry but if I want to have guys stare at my chest I am going to have to buy a pair.
Can't do anything now but I would gladly trade a Caddy or a Lincoln for a proper chest. The one on the right is a Coupe DeVille and the left is a Continental. Talk about an ice breaker ;)
Here are two new favourites, to show I just don't listen to vintage rockabilly:
I don't know if I mentioned that I traded my 78 Oldsmobile Tornado for another "old" car, yes the long awaited T-Bird has finally appeared on the driveway. Having had the 85 Cadillac Seville as my daily driver for a month exclusively I forgot how big these cars were. She rides on the same frame as my 76 Mark IV and shares the same 460 cubic inch power plant.
Despite a mysterious oil leak the T-Bird runs great and goes like a scaled cat. A nice throaty rumble from the stainless steel duals follows in her wake. Now I swear I would never own a brown car but then I have done a lot of things I swore I would never do.
The Thunderbird is metallic brown with a gold vinyl top and gold Medici velour interior. The paint needs a good buff and some detailing but the body is pretty solid for being a local car its whole life....a long closed Ford dealer in Stratford, ON.
When I can afford it in the future I hope to have her lowered like my Lincoln. Before winter sets I may fit a set of mag wheels I have set aside just to see how they will look on her. More pictures when I get her waxed up.
Drove her over to meet a fellow seventies luxury car enthusiast last night, we cruised around a little and talked too long over coffee. The ride back on an empty freeway with the cruise control on was sublime, just as I was getting close to home Ricky Nelson comes on the AM/FM 8-track, how appropriate:
Regarding my last post, one commenter asked, if the wait is so intolerable why don't I just go elsewhere and pay for SRS myself. My funds if any are tied up in non-liquid assets but if necessary I will pay for surgery wherever I can get it. Here in Ontario we are lucky to have government funded health care but approval for SRS is dependent upon meeting CAMH's requirements and working with their timetable.
Of course we pay higher taxes than our American cousins for the privilege.
Also I was hoping to save some money from the sale of my cars to get FFS.
It has been a year full time, WOW… time flies like an arrow but fruit flies like bananas
Thanks to all who commented on my prior post or took the time to send me a private message. It made a world of difference and picked up my spirits considerably.
I wanted to post earlier but I had a couple of magazine article deadlines to meet. They pay thank god but almost as important was the delight in being busy and productive.
I had this post ready to go a week ago but things changed and my positive attitude took a vacation. I had my one year meeting with CAMH and although it went well for the most part I was very discouraged to learn that it would be a year before surgery, assuming I am judged eligible.
I should have expected such a delay but I had foolishly gotten my hopes up . It was all I could do not to cry during the meeting. Tears of frustration flowed freely on my drive out of the city. The faithful Seville found its own way home.
I know a year is not a life sentence but I am feeling very trapped in this limbo. A year full time has intensified the desire to transition fully. The flames of desire fanned to an inferno. Hormones have made a great difference but I cannot look at my body and feel whole.
I am climbing back out of my funk but it has taken a few days. Now back to regularly scheduled programming.
A few random thoughts on transitioning a year in:
Unfailingly identify with female protagonist in novels, movies and television.
No fear out in public, I expect to pass wherever I am
Ability to laugh off accidentally outing myself or when my children do it but NO tolerance when others do it.
I have largely avoided discussions of sexuality on this blog, readers maybe able to read between the lines though. I would consider myself a heterosexual female, this year has cemented those feelings.
Some of the old fighting spirit coming back. At first I felt that to pass as female meant being as unobtrusive and neutral as possible. As I have become more comfortable passing I have felt freer to speak my mind….well as much as a polite Canadian can possibly speak their mind.
Guys think it is cool when a woman knows about cars. Best quote from a show where I had my Caddy on display, “a woman like you is every guys dream”. LOL
Pictures of myself are not as important as they were, it is who I am all the time now.
So what else has been going on in my corner of the Dominion, children are back at school and already getting their first colds of the season, sold my 72 Lincoln Mark IV, more like traded with some cash in my favour. More about the Continental’s replacement next week, all I will say is that it has four more cylinders and hails from Coventry. The Thunderbird I swapped for my Toronado for has also arrived at long last.
I have been reading an excellent history of female SOE agents dropped into occupied France. A Life in Secrets: Vera Atkins and the Missing Agents of WWIIby Sarah Helm. Most engaging book I have read in a decade. Highly recommended. Not only an amazing history but a detective story to find the "true" story.
Those unlucky enough to be betrayed met their fate in the notorious Ravensbrück or Dachau concentration camps.
I am humbled by the bravery of these women when it was not expected of them at that time. We who aspire to the title of woman would dishonor their memory by living timid lives in an era of relative peace.
I have been putting off this post as I hoped that something would happen to change things or I happened to get a Jimmy Stewart, Its a Wonderful Life style attitude adjustment.
But sadly no, if I waited any longer this bog would be as dated as my taste in music, movies and cars.
If you have continued to drop by to check if I am still alive thanks for your persistence. It has not been an easy couple of weeks.
Unemployment benefits ended unexpectedly with no new job in sight and personal finances in disarray.
Depression returned and with it thoughts of suicide. Sunday's headline in the Drudge Report, mentioned that more Americans now die by suicide than car accidents. Given the state of the economy on both sides of the 49th parallel that is not such a great surprise. Add being transsexual to being unemployed and it is a little like playing Russian roulette with all the chambers filled.
I have bounced back an forth between depression, hope and gallows humour. It is not any easier for "J" as the financial well being of the family is on her shoulders. I feel less than useless.
Looking back at the interviews I have had I am sure I didn't get one job because of being transsexual while the most recent I am confident I passed. As my one year full time anniversary approaches do I consider transition a mistake, no but success has eluded me so far.
The need to be there for three children also limits jobs that don't pay enough to cover child care. I need a new career position but those seem difficult to come by despite years of high level experience.
I have sold surplus hot rod and vintage car parts to strengthen the family budget and have had to consider selling some cars too. Finding buyers for big gas guzzling seventies luxo barges is not so easy with the price of crushed dinosaur juice so high.
There are some more flexible opportunities on the horizon but they will have to be pursued in tandem to provide anything like a living wage. I continue to write professionally but the amount paid to freelancers by magazines has also been cut.
So sorry no happy ending or light at the end of the tunnel just a confusing jumble of emotions. For the moment I remain upright and sniffin' air...
cant find any pathetic sad faced photos, image at top is me in a Austin FX4 taxi, kinda rare over here
I was going to post something sad and sweet by the Ravonettes but perhaps a musical selection that always bring a smile when I hear it. Ladies and gentlemen, George Formby:..... and yes he is before by time you smart ass
Me at the North Korean DMZ, the shorts caused an international incident
Transsexuals are usually portrayed in a very negative light in popular culture, especially in the last century.
I have since a pre-teen been a fan of Clive Cussler and his American "James Bond" character Dirk Pitt. I recently gave my oldest child a copy of his Raise the Titanic.
The novels mostly combine underwater adventure and historic mysteries. Both Cussler and his fictional hero are car collectors and each novel usually features a cool antique car.
Perhaps the first reference to transsexuality I ever came across was in Cussler's 1975 novel Iceberg. Purchased as in flight entertainment for a trans-atlantic trip to by boarding school the transsexual character certainly got my full attention. You can picture me on a 747 in my school uniform nose buried in the book, eschewing the airline food for a bag of bbq potato chips….still my greatest weakness.
(warning very out dated spoiler alert)
I recently came across the very same copy of that novel and decided to see if my memory was playing tricks on me. Nope!
We first meet Kirsti Fyrie, the Icelandic CEO of Fyrie Ltd. She is described as the "loveliest woman north of the sixty-fourth parallel".
Pitt turned, and so did every other male head in the restaurant. She stood in the foyer very tall and very blond, like a fantasy of womanly perfection, incredibly beautiful, as if caught the perfect pose by the lens of a fashion photographer's camera. her statuesque figure was encased in a long violet-coloured dress…
…she walked over to the table , moving with a graceful flowing motion that possessed all the suppleness of a ballerina and more than the suggestion of a natural athlete. By this time all the women in the restaurant were eyeing her with instinctive envy."
Perhaps it would be too much for readers in 1975 but Pitt eventually spurns Ms. Fyrie's advances as she is indirectly responsible for the death of an old friend (she was being blackmailed in her defence). Others have accused this novel of being homophobic and misogynistic. What is surprising is the even handedness and acceptance accorded her status in the novel. :
'That there never was a sister. That Kristjan died the exact moment you were born?' He shook his head. 'What difference would it make? As Kristjan you weren't willing to accept the sex your body had given you so you undertook sex conversion surgery and became Kirsti. You came into this world transsexual. Your genes crossed you up. You weren't satisfied with the hand nature dealt you so you made a change. What more is there?'
Once again I find myself apologizing for my lack of posts, bad bad girl.
Last Friday was my first meeting with the mediation lawyer for "J" and my separation....no I didn't wear the outfit above! I went with very conservative black skirt, blouse and grey suit. I left, mildly positive we can work this out without resorting to duelling lawyers and flushing all assets down the can. Next meeting will be the three of us, fingers crossed.
I believe "J" and I are on the same page about the most important things, though the cars may take some debate, but even there we are closer together than I thought previously.
Despite my positive attitude (maybe its just the drugs) I have a nagging feeling I am rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic or perhaps Eva Braun planning her honeymoon.
My writing is going well (two new articles soon to be published) but my job search sucks like an Electrolux.
OK car stuff, I have a had serious crush on the 71-72 Buick Riviera for years. I once had a 70 Riviera GS and she was fast, the boat-tail has the same 455 mill but a body that looked like a one off prototype.
Now to red line the cool meter my idols Lux and Ivy of the Cramps had a black 72 nicknamed the Devil Bat. That's Ivy in the photo.
I have often written that I have been as honest as possible with this blog, to myself and to those reading. Of course there are some things that remain unsaid as they involve the privacy of others or are just too painful.
One of my fears at going full time was the reaction of my neighbours in the traditional suburban community. For many months I was happy to report that acceptance both genuine and polite was forthcoming.
Unfortunately I have since leaned from different sources that my conduct, parenting and presentation have been the subject of criticism. I have waited a few days to write this post as my ire was raised above DEFCON 1 and I did not wish to say anything I would later regret.
The criticism comes from one person in particular. He reported to "J" that I had kissed a friend (MtF) in my driveway with my children around and that when working on my Cadillac I was wearing shorts that showed my private area. He claimed that both he and a sanitation worker collecting recycling witnessed this act of gross indecency and also mentioned the colour of my panties.
I was incredibly mortified to learn of the following accusations. The first is patently untrue, I had simply given a friend going through a tough time a hug. I consider myself a heterosexual female and even if it were a kiss it was no one else's frakkin business.
Second the matter of the too short short shorts. After learning of the accusation I went back and tried them on attempting to put myself in every possible position I could have been in. It is certainly true that a sliver of underwear could be seen but NOT any private area, OMG I am trying to get rid of that not show it off!
If I can try and be charitable he might actually believe what he wanted to see instead of just making stuff up.
I can hardly express my anger, as my knee is still giving me pause I had to go for a drive instead of a walk. Yes I did do a nice sliding burnout as I left my subdivision. Not very feminine or grown up but the cathartic effect of 460 cubic inches cannot be denied.
Dear constant readers, sorry for my absence. Feeling a bit blue over my prolonged job search, so many resumes sigh. Also twisted my right knee, seem to have really torn something, was almost in tears driving yesterday the pain was so intense.
Doctors appointment in Hamilton today, told to come back in two or three weeks if still in agony. They recommended an MRI but as we have socialized medicine (not really complaining as I didn't have to pay for visit....forgetting our higher tax rates) there is a long wait and it is easier to see if things heal up by themselves.
That's me in the 72 Mark IV, actually I put both the Lincoln and Seville up for sale, but only if price is right. I don't think I could replace them for what I am asking and a good used car even if 40 years old is still worth its weight in gold....or crude oil. Money talks as they say
Part of me wants to simplify and the other can no more part with a car than sell my children to medical science, which I often threaten them with when they misbehave.
Wixom in the title refers to the now closed Ford factory where Lincolns and Thunderbirds were long made.
As I left the medical building parking lot a woman came up and complemented me on the Mark IV Continental and then said I look just like Geena Davis with my blonde hair. Well I will take her word for it. I wonder if she meant as in the movie Earth Girls Are Easy?
A big shout out to the city of my birth, London ( yes I am a cockney) for such a well done Olympic open and closing ceremony. Not really my kind of music but then not much is ;)
My good friend Bill dropped in Sunday for a much appreciated visit. By mid afternoon the rain had stopped and the sun made a dramatic return.
I changed out of my shorts and slipped on a baby blue sun dress I purchased a few weeks ago. We decided to go for a cruise along the lake shore all the way to Hamilton (stopping to snap a few photos) then a fast run back on the highway hitting 95 mph, would have been over a ton if that silver Volvo wagon wasn't blocking the fast lane.
Later "J" and the girls as well as Bill and I went out for dinner, a great Sunday!
Grocery shopping for a weekend picnic, zipped into the grocery, shorts and a pink top, white wedge heels. No makeup except eye liner and lipstick.
As I was getting a cart and an other woman came up to me and said wow you have such great legs. I stammered out a thank you. Needless to say I was very flattered and on cloud nine.
another hot day with the sun roof open in the 72 Mark IV
Last night made it to the local cruise night as my friend "D" would be there with his amazing 64 Imperial convertible. I already had the Cadillac out as a result of an earlier grocery run, so why not?
The children were supposed to come but they opted to go shopping with "J" this time.
All that was left to do was get myself ready, yes I was a little over dressed but I thought I should match the outre nature of the car, so short skirt and heels.
now that is a steering wheel, careful how you sit, chrome centre bullet can reflect up ladies skirt
chrome inner ring is the horn
Had two proposals of marriage so long I came with the Cadillac.
beautiful night for a top down drive
Later on we met up with Genni for coffee and chatted well into the early morning hours....
At Ardene's last week and picked up a few cheap necklaces, including this retro sixties surfers cross.
Wow an iron cross and a banana bike, I would make a cool teenager circa 1966.
"J" immediately asks why I was wearing a swastika…..which immediately put me on mind of this rare slice of sixties wax by fellow Canuk, Debbie Lori Kaye, better known for her country music career.
Recorded in 1966 this Shangri-las, Ronettes style 45 attempted to capitalize on the "controversy" around kids wearing replica iron crosses.
The fad began amongst in Southern California's surfers:
World War I Ace Max Immelmann earned two, as did Corporal Adolf Hitler, and now U.S. teen-agers are buying them by the gross. Dug out of attics and curio shops and freshly minted by the thousands, the German Iron Cross has become the newest surfer's emblem and high school fad.
Nobody, except parents, seems upset by the Iron Cross's connotations. "When kids ask me about the 1939 inscription," says one distributor, "I just tell them it was a big year for surfing."
Time Magazine April 22, 1966
I can still vaguely remember them in grocery store gumball machines in the late seventies, edgy ;)
