My first car after leaving active duty in the Army in 1953 was a 1948 Buick convertible that I sort of inherited from my cousin. She was a truly beautiful girl and had moved to New York City to work as a fashion model. The car was a lot of fun, especially when filled with friends cruising to a California beach with the top down. It hardly qualified as a sports car, though Jim Sitz has reminded me that it was called a “sporty car,” hot stuff when new.
While attending West Point, my cousin (the same cousin) invited me to escort her to a party at a friend’s apartment in New York City. The affair was rather formal, so she insisted I wear my dress uniform. As the party was winding down, some of the guests decided to go to Toots Shore’s, a famous Gotham nightspot. My cousin decided to ride with a fellow she had met who was the son of Hattie Gimbal from her first marriage. A year later, my cousin ended up being his wife and he eventually became the president of Saks Fifth Avenue. Anyway, I got a ride with an older gentleman in an XK120 Jaguar roadster. Wow, what an experience for a young soldier whose only prior experience in an open vehicle was in a Dodge Weapons Carrier.
