Simanaitis Says
On cars, old, new and future; science & technology; vintage airplanes, computer flight simulation of them; Sherlockiana; our English language; travel; and other stuff
FRIDGE MAGNETS PART 2
TODAY IN PART 2, WE CONTINUE RECALLING life’s adventures embodied in refrigerator magnets, inspired by Linda Geddes’ article in The Guardian. These magnets do so much more than just attach one thing and another to refrigerators.
Coolspring Power Museum. Located in the Pennsylvania town of the same name (about 85 miles west/northwest of State College in mid-state), the Coolspring Power Museum is likely the world’s largest collection of operating centennial engines (internal-combustion engines built prior to 1900).
The museum’s mechanical delights are all the more fascinating because they operate today on hydrogen (the nearest to that era’s town gas).
1955 Ford. My earliest time behind the wheel was in Dad’s 1950 Ford Tudor, albeit only briefly around parking lots learning how to initiate progress without stalling. The first family car with which I had independent use was his 1955 Ford Convertible, bright red just like this fridge magnet.
I am amused by the advertising art of the era showing the cars oversize (or the people undersized).
A Life’s Motto. She’s showing her age, but her motto is a favorite.
Abstract Magnet Art. A friend who now lives in Australia gave me this trio of a lady, her pal, and their dog.
We’ll Always Have Paris. Another friend who chose the life of ex-pat in France gifted me these Parisian magnets. I love the wine and cheese.
The Place de L’Opera reminds me of the time Saab PR pal Len Lonnegren and I dashed through traffic to rap our walking sticks—actually our knuckles—on the center of the Place (per Lieut. Col. Newman-Davis calling it “the centre of the world” in The Gourmet’s Guide to Europe, 1908.)
Jus’ S’more Trippin’. I’ve written about London several times here at SimanaitisSays, curiously enough seemingly always sub terra: “Mind the Gap,” and “Mind the Gap? No, Mind the Maps,” both about London’s subterranean transport. And “The London Underground—Redefined,” the trend of super wealthy Londoners enhancing their residences downward.
Wife Dottie traveled the world as well: The Soviet Union, Brazil, the Arctic Circle, Japan and “Evaluating the De Tomaso Pantera—and the U.P.” Touring the Upper Peninsula of Michigan took her to Marquette, where she bought a lighthouse.
The Moke Trip. In 1991 I drove my Austin Mini Moke “from sea to shining sea,” Wife Dottie joining me in Dallas for the rest of the trip. These magnets were more than mere souvenirs of this adventure.
Mounted on the passenger firewall, they were directly behind the car’s voltage regulator and thus kept the electrified Lucas smoke firmly within this device.
Talk about memories. ds
© Dennis Simanaitis, SimanaitisSays.com, 2024
Simanaitis Says 
I’m curious. What was there about El Centro that prompted you to buy a magnet from there?
Wife Dottie was born there.
can’t think of a better reason.
My most recent refrigerators have stainless doors which don’t work with magnets. The stainless dishwasher door is magnet friendly, but knee level reading just doesn’t work for me. All my magnets are on garage tool boxes and cabinets. Most of the magnets have a aviation or vintage British car theme, which may be less suited to the kitchen.
Fellow autoholic friends had their refrigerator door covered with body script names from an array of domestics: Galaxie 500, Impala, Custom Deluxe, Skylark, Ranchero, El Camino, Super Sport, Bel Air, Eldorado, Fairlane, Vega, Pacer, LTD, Lancer, Seville, Cutlass Supreme, Royal Lancer, Magnum, Coronet, Granada, LeBaron, Pinto, Fury, Monaco, de Ville, Baracuda, GT350, Wildcat, Toronado, Cougar, Gremlin, Grand Wagoneer, on and on.
Jean Shepherd did a bit on his WOR show one night about Detroit giving cars the names they really meant, “the Plymouth Son of a Bitch, Dodge Bastard…”