The Departure

          This was a childhood dream; my trip.  It wasn't just driving around the U.S. in any car that interested me as a child.  It has to be a special, unique automobile.  I didn't know then exactly what it should look like, but I had confidence that when I saw it I would know!  Twenty or so years later I saw, and I knew.

           My friend, Jerry Martindale, had got wind of it in Germany and shipped it over.  I saw it soon after.  It was "want" at first sight.  The car wasn't flashy, in fact it made you laugh and smile and wonder what it was.  It seemed older than it's '53 vintage.  Not because of hard use, in fact it was pristine, but because of the way it was built. Well, have it I did.  The beginning of a long relationship between this Morgan plus 4 flat radiator grill with it's elevated back seat was consummated.

           I decided a week before my departure on this adult childhood odyssey, to pull Mog apart and take a peek to make sure nothing was wrong and also to clean, and to service, and then tighten a rather loose steering system by having a brass nut re-machined.  Everything seemed shipshape to my limited mechanical mind, and fall had settled around us in earnest.  It was time to depart.

           On a cobalt blue day with a warm fall sun warming the great crevasse of the Columbia Gorge, I put the Mog's wheels heading towards Montana.  It was October 2nd.  We were jubilant as we pierced east.  Mog humming a beautiful harmony, I in vocal discord. 

            Not far down the road a late model car came up behind us, honked and waved us over.  "What is it?" became the universal question.  He just wanted to chit chat about Mog and where we were heading, and wishing us luck, went on his way.  I would soon learn that Mog was a great Ambassador.