It was her first trip to the United States where she met my brother in law Earl in Baltimore. Lydia was originally from England. She traveled the English countryside in grand style frequently holidaying in the South of France. She had wonderful stories. Once, the captain of a fishing vessel was bribed to take her back to England before the Germans invaded France in World War II saving her from a life with a Nazi officer – what history.
She was always there as far back, as I could remember. I have such fond memories of the sound and
smell of spending a sunny afternoon with her as a young boy. After Earl’s death Lydia stayed with my
sister but her condition was deteriorating.
Carmen knew she could no longer care for her and decided to search out
someone to help. People called from around the world but it
wasn’t until Richard telephoned that we knew he was the one.
The day arrived when we had to say good bye. My sister and I at her side, we helped her down
the long drive to the transport that would carry her cross country first to Los Angeles and then by ship to NZ. As the transport
doors closed my sister and I stood embraced and began to cry. We thought this was the last time we would see
the old girl.
At Christmas my sister told me she wanted to visit Lydia but
needed me to accompany her or she wouldn’t go.
I agreed and we arrived on Wednesday, May 23, 2012 in Auckland to be
reunited with her the next day. That
morning our anticipation grew. Carmen
and I waited patiently in the hotel lobby hoping to catch a glimpse of her
arrival. In all her original glory she descended
down the hill. I was breathless, the
moment felt surreal as she approached. The
tears began to well up in our eyes.
After our greetings Richard said, “Let’s take the old girl out.” Climbing into the back seat Richard turned the key starting the engine. Letting out a deep and thundering roar I suddenly remembered the sound of her engine, the smell of her leather – I was a young boy again. Her restoration rushed to be completed for our visit just the day before. Lydia gleamed once again as a brand new 1938 Lagonda V12 drop head coupe convertible.
We drove the streets of Auckland, turning heads with her impressive
body. I could only think how lucky I was
to be once again riding in such an engineering marvel for her time. I grew up around classic cars like Lydia appreciating
the beauty of these vehicles as a work of art.
As a designer I see the pronounced lines, shapes, colors and the craftsmanship
of an engineering masterpiece that inspires me.
Yet I wonder what inspiration will be provided by today’s massed
produced utilitarian boxes on wheels for future designers.
Richard would return on Saturday taking us to visit Lydia's new home in the countryside. The square brick structure was simple and difficult to grasp the immense size of the building. As we entered through the center door we saw an open courtyard, fountain in the center and garage doors lining the interior walls.
Richard said, “Wait here.” Pressing a button we watched what felt like a curtain going up on stage, anticipating what’s next. The doors opened in unison to reveal a personal collection of automotive wonders, headlights sparkling in the sun light.
Each car had a story which Richard knew by heart. We walked stall by stall, Richard storytelling,
Carmen listening and me photographing the vehicles. Richard was once a mechanic never losing that
passion to be hands on under the hood or behind the wheel driving each and
every car. It became clear to Carmen
and me that we chose the right person to love Lydia.
It is hard for some to understand what would drive my sister
to travel so far just to see a car. It’s
not about a car but a love affair. For
my sister the love affair was with Earl.
The two of them spent almost 50 years together creating fabulous
memories that just happened to involve a car. This time together with my sister and Lydia is
something I will always cherish because in the end, the most priceless thing anyone
can own – memories.
