In response to the gentleman who worked for AMC, and who said that improper wheel bearing lubrication was responsible for some of AMC’s products’ front wheels separating from their mount points, I must disagree. As an owner of two Ramblers that separated their front wheels, I speak from experience when I say the culprit is the trunnion. Some Ramblers have trunnions that the front wheel swivels on. The solution was in a kit from JC Whitney that made the trunnion into a sort of kingpin; you also had to tighten all front-end bolts and nuts frequently. Ramblers are good economy cars and I like them, but they take a little cleverness. I also had problems putting the transmission (stick) back together, until I used a rubber band at a strategic point on some bearings (it would work for awhile, then go bad again).
Lloyd Austin
Whittier, California
Not many people give the old Rambler credit. Most remember the front wheels falling off! The reason for that was that no one read the owner’s manual. Every 1,000 miles, you had to grease the front end. I never had any trouble with any of them. Back in the day, my uncle and I had a herd of 1959 Rambler Americans: six-cylinder flatheads, three-speeds, and tough as nails. We would push and tow everything with them and, best of all, they cost $1,895 brand new! You could buy ’em cheap at 10 years old, as they were rugged vehicles that could get 30-plus MPG and 36 with overdrive. I’ve spent 50 years working on them, and they were as good as anything else. I still own two of them today.
Ross Sealund
Haverhill, Massachusetts
Your Scotsman article was incredible. Wish it had had more photographs: interior and exterior shots, upholstery details, etc. Good piece. Left me wanting more. That’s what a good magazine does. Love these bottom-of-the-range cars and the thriftiness they represent.
This sort of car is the kind that I search for when buying new. They’re close to extinct, as no one will build a basic, simple automobile. Every manufacturer is too busy going “upscale” to even consider this market. But ultra-basic transportation is as it was then: appealing to eccentrics, crackpots and penny-pinchers, and not a very big target or profit source either. And before anyone gets insulted, I stake my claim to each of those categories; the Scotsman is my kind of car.
By the way, wasn’t Studebaker’s success with the Scotsman one of the reasons for the decision to build the Lark?
There is virtue in minimalist motoring. I would love to find a modern equivalent of the Scotsman today. Came close with a 1995 Saturn SL1.
Dave Gregory
Tucson, Arizona
As a Studebaker fan, I absolutely loved the article on the 1958 Scotsman in HCC #92. A rare bird indeed–one, in fact, that I have never seen, not even in its day. Its lack of brightwork, as Richard mentioned, is not that different from some of today’s cars, style being the main element over unnecessary glitz. I, for one, think it looks great and would love to have a Scotsman in my garage!
Russ Seuffert
Spring Lake Heights, New Jersey
The article on the Scotsman brought back memories of my economics professor at Eau Claire Wisconsin State College in 1960. He had a green 1958 Scotsman sedan, and had a sense of humor about it. He said they built a car, put it in gear, then took stuff off it until it started moving–then they sold it to him. Dr. Fred Armstong was as rare as his car.
Douglas Mewhorter
St. Paul, Minnesota
I well remember the gray Saturday morning when the local Studebaker garage took the three black Scotsman sedans that had just arrived, attached streamers reading “The Scotsman is Here!” to them and drove them around the downtown and major streets of our city, Amsterdam, New York, like a little caravan. My father was looking for a new car at the time, and because I considered him a real penny-pincher, I was terrified he’d learn the price of the Scotsman and immediately buy one. As a car-conscious teenager, I considered the Scotsman maybe one step above the lowly Ford Mainline, and being yoked to either one would have been terribly embarrassing, when all my friends’ parents owned middle-class Dodges or at least upper-model Fords and Chevys. Fortunately, Dad never even noticed the Scotsman–nor did hardly anyone else, apparently, for I was very car-conscious then, and I never saw anyone driving a Scotsman around Amsterdam after that day.
Peter Betz
Fort Johnson, New York
In 1958, My uncle’s 1953 Pontiac Starchief was clearly on the ropes. They had just bought a house and funds were really stretched thin. My aunt suggested buying a used car, but my uncle said, “And buy somebody else’s headache?” With a growing family and limited funds, a medium-gray 1958 Scotsman station wagon met their budgetary needs.
Once the new-car magic had worn off, my aunt (quite a comedienne) invented an imaginary board meeting of the Studebaker-Packard Corporation. In this meeting, the S-P Company Chairman opens the meeting with:
“Gentlemen, I have good news and bad news to present about our Studebaker Scotsman. The bad news is that we had to put a chrome ‘S’ on the front of the hood.” (Groans and moans around the table.) “We also had to put chrome hubcaps on it, too!”(More moans and groans.) “But the good news is that we more than compensated for that outlay by putting in a cheesecloth headliner, cardboard side panels covered with contact paper and without armrests, and sliding rear windows–thus saving the cost of a cranking mechanism!” (Cheers and applause around the table.)
My uncle religiously followed all the oil change and maintenance requirements in the owner’s manual, yet at around 40,000 miles, the Scotsman began to smoke. At 45,000 miles, he had to put rings and sleeves in the engine. He thought it might have been assembled on a Monday morning, but the mechanic said: “Oh no! We call these ‘South Bend Diesels,’ while other mechanics call them ‘Stupidbreakers.’” From that point forward, whenever he was about to do anything about which she had misgivings, my aunt would say: “Remember the Scotsman?” That was usually fuel for a good argument.
It looks like Frank Sammon must have gotten a Scotsman that was made on a Wednesday. I certainly wish him well with it and thank him for maintaining such an overlooked and limited-production car. Thanks for the memories!
George Gallagher
Lehi, Utah
Just after graduating from high school in 1956, I went with several friends to hear Jimmy Burke, a virtuoso coronetist in the nearby city of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. My trumpet player friend was able to borrow his dad’s Scotsman to make the trip. My recollection was that there were four of us, and that mighty six-cylinder engine struggled to top some of the mountains we encountered while burdened with our youthful weight.
The Scotsman should be listed in the dictionary as a synonym for “austerity.” With the recent surge of “austerity campaigns” going on these days, I think their supporters should experience real austerity by taking a ride in a Scotsman! Then they might know what they were talking about. Anyway, it was the most spartan vehicle I’d ever ridden in. I recall that “Cyclops Eye” speedometer, minimal instrumentation and nonexistent amenities with amusem*nt but, then again, it got us there and back. What a change to get back to the family Hudson. That was real luxury after the Scotsman.
Robert Kraft
Orrtanna, Pennsylvania
On the cover of HCC #92 is what I still say is the ugliest car ever produced! Early ’60s Valiants…ugh! My motto for that marque is, “The car you couldn’t pay me to take at any price!”
Gary Bettega
Orland Park, Illinois
I devour your wonderful magazine each month, but I found it kind of a stretch for you to feature the particular Pontiac Executive in your “Driveable Dream” feature in HCC #92. It’s understandable that the owner would love his car as part of the family, but this particular one–in its present condition–does not reflect the regal bearing of the Executive when it was first introduced. As I recall, these cars were not delivered with Rally II wheels, but with finned wheel covers. That, plus the mismatched paint, Vega steering wheel and foam poking through the seats does nothing to give the reader a sense of what the Executive model was all about. A survivor car should still exude some sense of why it was important. The Executive exemplified affordable luxury and, with all due respect to the owner, the example shown doesn’t really do that.
On a more positive note, I truly enjoyed your feature on give-away cars. It reminded me that my father won a 1952 Chevrolet at an Elks Lodge raffle in Queens, New York. The car was a gray, two-door stripper–probably a Styleline Special–but it was still a big deal for anyone to win a new car in those days. Since my dad already owned a similar 1951 model, it was not long before he took both Chevys to the local Buick dealer and traded them for a new 1953 Special Riviera coupe. Riding around in that Buick, we really felt we were living the American Dream!
David Fluhrer
Locust Valley, New York
In his letter in HCC #92, Mr. Betancourt questioned whether it will be feasible to restore the chassis and electronics of current cars decades from now. I am absolutely convinced that intrepid individuals, specialty companies, and even the car manufacturers themselves will contribute solutions so that in 50 years; a restored car from 2012 will achieve its original structural, performance and emissions standards. Modern cars are at least as interesting as their ancestors, and they will become just as highly regarded. To minimize the challenges of restoring them, we need to work hard now to accumulate the best historical documentation, collections of parts and repair procedures. Unfortunately, throughout the history of automotive restoration, newer cars have been ignored until their histories become hard to trace and their parts become difficult to find. We have to avoid repeating that mistake. The Hemmings publications can help by producing monthly columns about the future challenges of maintaining and restoring current cars.
David Krall
Monterey, California
I’m afraid that Mr. Betancourt’s fears of collectible cars being a dying art are already manifesting themselves in some ways today. His concern for the need for antique diagnostic equipment in the future is a problem today, because it doesn’t exist for classic cars. Many of today’s mechanics and our younger generation are losing the art of diagnosing a car’s problems without the aid of a computer to give them an answer.
My own mechanical skills are somewhat limited, so whenever I know I’m getting in over my head, I’ll go to a professional mechanic so I don’t screw up my beloved classic. But having recently moved to the Twin Cities area, I’m discovering many places do not even want to consider repairing an old car. But wait a minute, I say, look at how much simpler it is without all those extra hoses and wires. But they’re apparently afraid that they won’t know how to find the car’s problem. You won’t see them putting their ear to a screwdriver on the cylinder head today.
But as for reproducing complicated parts on a 2001 Mustang or the diagnostic software–that I’m not too concerned about. Forty years ago, nobody dreamed the reproduction market would grow into what it is today. If there’s money to be made, somebody will make it. Just be ready to pay dearly for parts and expertise.
And I would have to disagree with that common complaint that all of today’s cars look alike. Granted, many do, but some automakers are trying to produce a little pizzazz. The Kia Soul, Chrysler Crossfire and Ford Flex, not to mention all of the retro muscle car models, are among those that I find easily recognizable on the road. Will they become future collectibles? Maybe, maybe not. But I remember a time when they said nothing built in the 1970s would be collectible, and cars from that decade are starting to find a strong market today.
I would have to say that Mr. Betancourt need not worry about future collectibles never developing out of today’s cars. As long as personal jetpacks remain unsafe and unfeasible, I believe there will always be folks wanting to fix up and drive old cars. It’s just too darn fun! The hobby may not be recognizable to us 50 years from now, but it will be there. And those who can’t afford a 1979 Thunderbird are going to think that early examples of hybrids are pretty cool and historically significant.
Brian Lee
Burnsville, Minnesota
