Category: Vanguard
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Can You Afford To Own A Chevrolet?
Or put another way – If they try to sell you a Plymouth can you Dodge the question? No good Nash-ing your teeth over it either… How odd that as we pull away from the curb into the twenty-first century in Australia, we should do so in the Toyota, Subaru, Daihatsu, Nissan, Suzuki, Honda, Mitsubishi,…
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Dashboard
Every time I open the WordPress site I get a dashboard that lets me control the weblog. Every time I get into my little Suzuki I sit behind a dashboard that lets me control the car. It is a comfortable place to be in both cases and I can see the wisdom in naming the set…
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Bring Back The Breadbox
I could kick myself for my inattention to detail last year – I wandered about the car park for the summer Brockton run and had such a good time that I neglected to take a good frontal picture of this Vanguard station sedan. I hope I shall have an opportunity to repair my neglect some…
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The Plastic Bumper Club – Or The Personal Car Club
I have recently been going to car shows that referred to themselves as ” Chrome Bumper ” shows. This was to limit the entries to a certain section of the history of automobiles. That was after narrowing it down further by era and time and type and nationality and degree of reworking and…and…and a great…
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Get Outa Here! Slowly…
Aha. I have just realised that there is a good way to overcome some of the disadvantage that pertains to car shows -the thing that I complained about in a previous column; the overcrowding of the display lines. I’m not a greedy person – I don’t want it all for myself or all to myself …but…
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A Plea From The Car Photographers To The Clubs
When you are planning your next car show, could you please park them a little further apart? We are thrilled to bits that you will be bringing your vintage-veteran-hot rod-street car-sports car-truck-bus-tank to the park-stadium-exhibition hall-mudflat behind the asbestos works. We don’t mind paying at the door-gate-edge of the car park for the privilege of…
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Fresh Off The Plane
So there I was, stepping freshly off the tarmac at Sydney’s mascot airport in 1964 with my parents and the cabbie pulled up and asked where we wanted to go – for some reason the company bringing us down to Australia booked us into a hotel in King’s Cross and so away we went –…