Hi! Phil Irish here, just a little background on
my mania for 300s, and specifically Bs. I was 11 when my Dad bought a
’56 Windsor coupe – geranium red body with silver gray
spear and top, and the top of the line fabric interior.
I was forced to give up that car when I left
college for the military, but Dad did not part with it and has it
still. 1975 saw me out of the military, married and living in
Memphis, TN. In some publication I stumbled across a reference to the
300 Club and wrote for membership. With help from Al and Gloria Moon
– YES they have a long record of helping members –
I located a 300B in the D.C. area that was available. Several letters
and phone calls finally lead to agreement and as my wife and I had to
be in Virginia for a family wedding, I decided to go ahead. The car
was not billed as perfect, “the usual rust” if I remember
the phrase! In person it was not too bad, but had clearly had some
lower body work and a repaint from the trim line down. It ran strong
though and I was delighted.
Traveling southwest from D.C., up and over the
mountains on a secondary highway, with the intention of picking up
I-81, we encountered our first “experience.” The right
side muffler and tail pipe departed from the Brute with a “WHUMP”
followed by the tremendous bellow of an unmuffled Hemi. It was
raining, there was no shoulder, just steep vegetation slanting down
to the road on the passenger side and a goodly drop off on the other,
and no prospect of help of any sort. Getting a rag from the trunk, I
salvaged the muffler and got rid of the remainder of the exhaust
pipe, right up to the point where it failed under my wife’s
feet! I am certain that the scarcity of original mufflers, which this
was, crossed my mind as I heaved it into the trunk; probably mixed
with some thought of having it rehung in the next town. As we passed
through New Market, VA the foolishness of that idea became apparent.
It was 4:30 PM on a Saturday, having left after the wedding, and I
had to be back in Memphis on Monday. “Press On Regardless”
became the motto. My wife alternated between, “I never like the
idea of this foolishness, why did YOU buy this big clunky old thing
anyhow?” and “Easy on the gas, there is another
policeman and I don’t want to spend the night in jail.”
We made it to Knoxville before calling it a night,
and the next, on into Memphis, still sans muffler etc. but I enjoyed
it tremendously and Mary was thankful for the reliability, if nothing
else.
The next few years saw more activity, attending
meets, although not with the Brute, meeting club members and getting
to know more about my car. Research revealed that it has been sold
originally in North Carolina. Inspection revealed he drove on the
beach and did not wash off the underside of the car!!! “The
usual rust” kept ringing in my ears. But I kept it looking as
good as I was able and enjoyed driving it regularly, always to the
appreciative smiles and waves of onlookers.
One of my New Year’s resolutions for 1984
was the get the white Brute fixed. I had met Ray Beaumont and been
impressed with not only the results of his ability but his dedication
to doing things correctly. If I was going into this, I wanted to come
out a contender in the show circle. I drove to Ray’s house in
North Florida to deliver the car, again feeling that this was clearly
the top of the pile, even left a few newer types in the dust on the
Interstate along the way. On the road, I saw a bumper sticker that
summed up the trip perfectly – “55 MPH, Aw Shucks!”
Before that trip I knew I could not be without a
300B and had looked at several around the country. The finest by far
was a red one with wire wheels
Remember the Red and Gray Windsor? My Dad had met
Ray and watched the progress of the White B, and the Red and Gray has
an appointment with Beaumont’s Magic to undo the ravages of
many upstate New York winters.
Now all I need is a really nice Black B to round
out the collection. Perhaps a high serial number, with a Torqueflite,
or a stick shift, if one such exists
Mania? Did I used that word earlier??? I prefer to
think of it as an obsession with the Best. The Letter Series
300s were, and to my mind, still are, THE BEST.
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