There were already classical music fans almost 70 years ago
Yes, it was 1952 when writer Waldmar Uherig wrote about his love for a small Amilcar . At that time, the slim cycle car was just 25 years old, so in principle it was still a youngtimer according to today's terminology. We don't want to deprive our readers of the text from issue 3/1952 of "Auto Motor und Sport" , published in the "Sports Car Biographies" series, because it contains some reminiscences that can only amaze us today:
"It would probably have rusted towards its final scrapping - dreaming of past journeys - if... and thus begins our little love story (the enthusiastic readers of this series of biographies will not want to interpret the word love, used in this context, as blasphemy), indeed if a strange business had not taken off in Zurich in the spring of 1950. A group of young car enthusiasts had come together to race old cars according to the American model.
Preparations were made with great enthusiasm and even more amateurism. First and foremost, this included the search for suitable objects. As an old car enthusiast, the writer of these lines took part in this exciting treasure hunt and met the heroine of this story in an old shed. Under a thick layer of dust, which still allowed the red racing paint to faintly shimmer through, the sleek shapes of a two-seater sports car that thrilled young people more than 25 years ago could be recognized. The bodywork was narrow-hipped, as a perceptive designer did not arrange the seats next to each other, but somewhat staggered, apparently with the intention that the driver would not be too distracted if accompanied. An arrangement, by the way, for whose justification we later came to fully understand.
We had probably been too open-hearted in our enthusiasm about the find, because the cunning salesman wouldn't budge; so we put a thousand Swiss francs on the table and could already see ourselves strolling through the streets in our minds. But if we had known at the time what a thorny road lay ahead of us until we had the registration certificate in our hands, this story would never have been written. Spare me, dear readers, a list of all the obstacles, suffice it to say that we could have bought a second-hand Volkswagen for the money we spent!
Finally, in the summer of 1951, the time had come. The cute vehicle sparkled in the sun as we got ready for a long test drive. A quick turn of the hand crank - a feast for the numerous spectators, especially the youngsters - and the little car was already shaking in all its joints with the engine at full throttle, like a full-blooded racehorse before the start. First gear in, throttle, second gear, wonderful how smooth the clutch plays, we would soon have been on the opposite side of the road with excitement, oh well, the direct-acting steering is no joke. At last we have joined the flow of traffic on this arterial road from Zurich to Rapperswil, which is so busy on Sundays. We must be causing quite a stir, because the expressions on the faces of the people driving and strolling along are really worth seeing. The whole gamut of human emotions is represented, from stunned astonishment to a bleak smile of derision. But the reader should imagine that we are on a street where the motorists of Zurich love to show off their sparkling chrome and gleaming standard of living in the form of the latest American models, which on nice days means a never-ending queue of cars.
Soon we've pulled in and can slowly demonstrate high school; there's a small stall up ahead, brake, but the cable brakes don't seem very reliable, so downshift at eighty on the speedometer, a howl from the intermediate throttle, and the engine brakes wonderfully. I can see serious readers frowning and muttering about the engine over-revving - don't worry, because we're driving with a crankshaft rotating in bronze bearings.
Two Americans in front of us want to overtake each other, but there seems to be a problem with road holding on the winding road. We stalk them, give the signal, downshift into second, in a clear bend we elegantly pass them; shift into direct at radiator height and our Amilcar makes a formal leap forward and away it goes. A concert of honking horns behind us shows that they are visibly sniffy. A long straight line sends the speedometer needle towards 110, the rev counter shows 4200 rpm, our friends from earlier are slowly catching up, and we are saved by a series of bends, which clearly suit the car with its rigid axles. A short uphill stretch on the way home shows us its respectable climbing ability, although the temperature of the radiator water was approaching boiling point, which is understandable in the absence of a fan.
Shall I tell you about our vacation the following August, when we chased our fleet-footed friend over most of the Alpine passes and covered four thousand five hundred kilometers across Switzerland in four weeks without any breakdowns worth mentioning? Since then, she has really grown on us, and as these lines are being written, she is resting well, and you will understand that we are already looking forward to the new travel season, when our little car will also stretch its nose over the white and red border posts."
Yes, not much was different 70 years ago than it is today ...
P.S. I wonder if the red Amilcar from 1927 has survived? The photo (above) from 2017 is probably not of the same car ...
