Portholes To Adventure

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One of the earliest memories I have of motor cars is of a deep green early 50’s two-door Buick that my parents bought in Canada. I was unaware of many aspects of it, but I was convinced of two things: the doors would deliberately slam and trap my fingers, and the portholes on the side of the bonnet were really exhaust stacks – like on a fighter plane. Nothing I have seen in the intervening years has convinced me otherwise. I never go near Buick doors and I never put my ear next to the portholes in case they fire it up.

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Here’s a selection of them. Some are local in Western Australia and some are in Victoria. I think it is very cleaver of the owners to clean them up so well…you can hardly see any trace of exhaust smoke down the side of the cars.

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Note that Buick could not decide whether they needed three portholes or four. It must have been a source of considerable argument in the Fisher Body works canteen at lunch time.

For students of mythology, Elektra was a vengeful daughter…hence her connection to Buick doors and fingers.

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