Do you still listen to Neil Young? I do, on the satellite radio in the Panzer, or at the fwrm where I can play the tunes as loud as I like.

To use the phrase popular here in The Swamp these days, I am getting a little ahead of my skiis. Let me briefly recap the latest developments in the tumultuous saga of the 59-ywar old station wagon nice;y trick out in Pepto-Bismol pink: my brother and I were on the look-out for a ‘59 Rambler Station wagon.

Dad had just passed, and our quest to help provide something to remember him was still a fresh wound. Dad contributed a significant inspiration to Rosie’s design, and the success of the swooped roofline and sporty roof-rack, not to mention the savings on tool for the sedan and wagon models ensured his subsequent career. The station wagons were an interesting prelude to the SUV era…a unique contribution of the roaring American post-war economy.

Anyway, after a modest search, we found Rosie in Pensacola, and dispatched Spike to go do the paperwork and drive it to Virginia. I would handle the voyage repairs on the 59-year-old vehicular. Enter an amazing environment of motor-heads where one looks for replacement parts for things like ancient wiper motors and assorted antique running gear.

I got VA antique plates, then on my knees to bolt them on to the Pepto-Bismol pink car. Therein lay the crux of another problem, one that resembled a paperwork IED. But more of that anon.

When the repairs were complete, Spike flew to Dulles, I picked him up and drove to the farm where would stage the next leg of the deployment.

I won’t belabor the saga of the arc across VA, MD, PA, OH and lovely green Indiana. I have inflicted that voyage report on you before and not attempt to do it again, except to note Rosie was a hit and drew a crowd wherever our little caravan stopped.

In Kokomo, we delivered Rosie to the tender care of the Kokomo Automotive Musueum, an icon for the most hard core car people I have encountered in my life. It is also the home of the Hoosier AMC Club, an attrition with a near cargo-cult adoration for the Sensible Spectacular Rambler line (the seats reclined, making them the greatest drive-in cars in history. Trust me on that!)

Suitably inducted into safe indoor display, I made preparations to drop
Spike at the Indianapolis jetplex and the drive back to ole Virginnie in the Panzer.

I thought we were about done with our active mission, though we vowed to try to visit coincidental with the August annual rally they named in Dad’s honor…he and mom drove down (Mom drove!) all the years they still could.

So, we entered into an auto hiatus. At the Museum, Rosie’s pink flanks showed tourists what America’s highways looked like in the years of the first Interstate highways.

It was busy back in DC with all our election nonsense and scandal. Spike got married (lovely lady) and I started to feel the effects of aging combined with a life lived hard and put away wet. This last Fall marked a collapse in my general well-being so profound that I couldn’t even bother to check the mail. I had to call down to the desk to ask Rhonda (Big Pink’s concierge and den mother) to bring a grocery bag full of accumulated down to the unit and hang it on the knob out in the hall.

It took a couple days to plow through it all…I felt lethargic …plus it was almost all junk mail…I saved the first class items for last, dozing in my chair. I sat bolt upright when I saw the note from Hoosier-land telling me that the Kokomo Museum had fallen on hard times and would close shortly. All us owners were advised to get our property off of theirs not later than May 18th of this year.

I was already a month late in responding. Spike was not available- still a newlywed, he was shuttling between homes and practice in MA and AZ, and I could not reliably transit from the bedroom to the bathroom, much less pack my tools and fly to Kokomo.

Salvation arrived in the form of another letter and a phone call: “We have an auction house that will handle disposition of excess exhibits and property. Just send your title and we will handle it all out here.”

Minor problem. I looked fairly hard. No file on Rosie at Big Pink, and no title. I have no idea where that folder is…with Rosie in distant Kokomo? That would make sense. Possibly at the farm where I got the plates transferred? Also possible.

No soap and no dice in either local case. I did discover a work-around, and requested a duplicate certificate from Virginia’s Internet DMV site, and to my mild surprise, it was provided in the mail (I was checking again) in a couple weeks. Success!

Except, no. Cars in 1959 did not have the same number of letters and digits that are assigned to vehicles from the modern era for discrete identification. In issuing the new Virginia title, an erroneous digit- an extra “3”- was inserted by the helpful, courteous DMV lady in Culpeper.

As far as the Indiana DMV and the auction house were concerned, the paper was no good. They would not touch Rosie with a barge pole without a valid title.

I sighed and realized that Rosie and I were both thoroughly screwed.

In order to clear Rosie from the about-to-be former Museum property, I decided to approach the Hoosier AMC Club to see if anyone wanted my pink Albatross….for free. We could sort out valid title matters later. The President took the project on himself, and in an impressive demonstration of Hoosier ingenuity, picked Rosie up with two weeks to spare before things got really complicated. Whew.

I won’t bore you with the specific agony that goes with the process of correcting an Antique car VIN so that two states like it…I can assure you it is an adventure…and after that trip to the Farm I got the corrected title from the DMV.

Then it was scanned, transmitted digitally, and the hard copy mailed to the heartland. Legal at last!

The new Custodian took Rosie to one of the first car shows of the Indiana season.

I don’t need to tell you Rosie was judged “best in show.” It wasn’t a big show, but another nice part of an amazing journey. It is an honor to be part of it.

Long may she run.

Rosie, right, and her new AMX stablemate at the show. All hail the Hoosier
AMC Club!

Copyright 2018 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com