Tuesday, November 01, 2005

A Beeskow 54 ???

What is this ??? A magic Beeskow ??? A Rometsch Beeskow to be precise... It does not help ? Well, I am talking about a time machine, a black, sleek, unique car built in the 50s in Berlin. Very few were made, much less, only a handful remain and one is just under my feet as I write, sleeping in the garage, two floors down. Schhhht !!!! Do not make any noise, it's late...

She found me 15 years ago -she's definitely a "she", no doubt. Was it a curse or a blessing? I don't know yet but probably both. 15 years ago in July 90 in Western Ireland where the magic began on a clear windy day on the coast of the Galway bay. She was just parked there and I heard her call as I drove by. A faint call, the call of a wounded animal wanting to live again, a sorceress imprisonned by rusty chains calling her third lover. And I heard her, delivered her and brought her back with me for better or worse.

Now she's a part of my life and a demanding lover. She deserved a total dedication and she got it, probably far too much but one needs to go to the extreme limits of what is reasonable and jump beyond in order to accomplish something really extraordinary, and we did, together... You want to see her ? Well, here she is:


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Love at first sight, no ??? I shall try to keep you posted with our adventures if she leaves me the time. She wanted to go out tonight but I managed to convince her that I needed some rest. Only for a little time and I had to promise a long drive together this week-end: three days in the high and cold mountains, so, see you next monday !

And many thanks for the photo above to the British Vintage VW enthusiast Rob Amos who runs the site www.pre67vw.co.uk. Rob, there's no better picture from Romy yet ! Thanks !

Magic Saturday

Saturday 13th of August sounded like a bad date, so I left earlier: on the 12th. At around 4 PM I throwed into my beloved Romy a sleeping bag, a flimsy tent, a change of clothes and on I went... Whaoo ! Perfect weather, 25 degrees C, sunshine and would it not be for this noisy clutch life could not be more perfect. Well, that's what the crowd of vintage car owners would like you to believe, how everything is only great, smooth and beautiful around their old ladies but, Romy 54 knows better than that. She knows about the tiny little trickle of fear behind every big trip. The fear of staying stranded in the middle of nowhere with a mechanical breakdown... In fact there are three type of vintage car owners:

- The ones who do not drive their cars, or on trailers back and forth from shows.
- The ones knowing their cars inside out and able to repair about anything on the roadside.
- And the last group (to which I belong) hoping for the best with the best possible preparation but always expecting the worst. And this particular group will never set out, especially on a single-handed trip, on a 13th and never without this trickle of fear...

I leave Vienna by the Westautobahn, in the direction of Sankt Pölten and I am happy to see the last traffic light disappearing in the back mirror. At least I won't have to use that clutch for the next 60km on the motorway. Romy slowly accelerates in 4th gear with this incredible feeling of torque for such a small engine. As I cross the hills of the Vienna woods I am holding a good 100 km/h slightly uphill. Talking of magic, this engine is just incredible. No doubt that a lot of love was poured into it as it was rebuilt. It just purrs along regularly and the trickle of fear starts changing into pleasure.

The people in the cars overtaking me are usualy curious and often nice: smiles, hand waves and friendly honking are many, I even got a fleeting kiss from a pretty young woman leaning out of the window of an older Mercedes. I guess it's for Romy. I usually don't get such reactions when I drive my Audi. Another 30 km and I reach the Sankt Pölten exit. That's where the real stuff begins. I am to drive the highway 20 crossing Central Austria from north to south through the "Limestone Alps" between Sankt Pölten and Bruck an der Mur in Steiermark via the town of Mariazell. 140 km of good moutain roads but a "first" for Romy and me in terms of gradients and hairpin curves.

The weather is holding and with the top down I can feel every small change of temperature as I pass from sunlight to shadow from one side to the other of the gradually deepening valleys. The smells are all round me: sawdust from a mill, freshly cut grass or... cow manure, it's all part of the experience. And the ride is smooth end eventless, the fear almost forgotten.

After 1½ hour of driving I start the steep climb towards Mariazell. The small or bigger chapels along the road remind me that this is a pilgrimage way to a high spot of catholicism in Central Europe, the basilica of Mariazell, and that for centuries thousands of pilgrims have followed the same path. Why am I precisely putting my wheels in their footsteps for this first single-handed trip? Probably part of the call of magic as well. Hairpin curve after hairpin curve the ascension towards my goal is eventless. 3rd gear, 2nd gear, the clutch is rough but still holding. The exhaust a bit noisy but I guess it has to do with the strain and the altitude. Let's not think too much... Let's just enjoy being on my own with Romy, a real love story... By the way, I drove the same road with my wife a month and a half ago on our 15th wedding anniversary... She'll be jealous.

After a pass we start our descent towards the central basin where Mariazell is nestled. It is of course not my first time here but I am always mesmerized by the strange, sharp but fir trees covered peaks surrounding the site. Everything is green, quiet, peaceful as if protected from the outer world. There is even a small narrow gauge train, often pulled by old steam engines, the tracks of which wind their way up from the plains to this strange place. A real model for railway modellers made true (http://www.mariazellerbahn.at/en/). Time has stopped here at least half a century ago.

Talking about stopping I think I am going to call it a day and have us spend the night here. I have decided to "rough it" so I go for the only, quite basic, camping site located in a small clearing in the woods near the Erlaufsee lake about 4 km from the little town. My arrival among tents, caravans and camping cars raises a few eyebrows, and not only because of the noisy exhaust... Romy is as out of place in this camping site as a tractor would be at the Pebble Beach show. Even the dust of the 2½ hour, 160 km drive has not tarnished the gleam of her black body or her shinning chrome bumpers. However my ridiculous little tent, won at a recent VW event and sporting the huge logo of a lawnmower manufacturer, is the absolute anticlimax... Whaooo. Talk of being different: here we are !

Obviously visiting Mariazell was not possible without paying a visit with Romy to the basilica. Praying for many more breakdown-free trips together can't do any harm, no ?


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Gosh, what a poor night... I had a set of noisy neighbours who laughed loud late plus... it's pretty cold up here and the old army sleeping bag I picked quickly yesterday in my basement is not the best choice. Add on top of this the tent that dreeped with condensation all night... I seem to have lost most of my old "outdoorsman skills". So much for "roughing it", I shall prepare myself better next time... At least the home cooking of the restaurant by the lake yesterday evening was first class and very reasonably priced.

As sleeps evades me short before 6 AM let's get at least an early start. I am on the road by 7 AM and the spectable and atmosphere is absolutely breathtaking: mist, clouds and rising sun play a strange ballet masking or revealing at times the surrounding mountains. I am alone on the road and drive top down despite the chill. I drive pass the toy railway-station where, believe it or not, a small steam locomotive is being prepared for service and bellows huge clouds of smoke. I am 50 years back, the magic is running at 100%. Thanks Romy, I love you !

South of Mariazell the road starts climbing steeply up again in the sun and after the pass of Seebergsattle at 1253 m drops down into the magnificent valley of Seewiesen. Probably the best sight of the whole trip worth all these kilometers by itself and a good time for breakfast in the local Gastwirtschaft... This picture is simply too good to be true but it was the actual view from the dinning room !


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Well, that was the climax of the trip. After that everything went downhill: the road, the weather and the sights and if I spent a few hours with a very nice group of Austrian VW fans organizing a meeting in Gaal the thrill of this "alp crossing" on highway 20 was not to be repeated. There are in life some rare moments that must be preciously recorded and this one was definitely one of them, blessed by the magic Romy and the Lady of Mariazell...

Driven back by pouring rain I eventually decide to leave the meeting and head back to Vienna prematurely at around 3 PM. I feel bad about leaving all these nice VW fans who were astounded to see Romy turning up at the meeting as an unexpected "guest star" but the windshield is leaking badly and I do not want to face a second "rough night" under the rain with an inappropriate gear. The rain is coming from the west and I am due full East so I shall try to outrun the clouds. My Romy does her best and eventually manages to beat the weather ! After 20 minutes we leave the rain behind us and sunshine is even expecting us behind the Semmering pass. I no longer have to drive with one hand and mop with the other! The 210 km back home are swallowed in less than 2 hours. With the softtop closed the ride is a lot less tiring and the atmosphere cosy in the snug little cockpit. There is now a total confidence between Romy and me. She speeds over 125 km/h just to show me she could... Incredible ! A love affair, believe me !

As I close the garage door after these 530 km in 25 hours I can't help thinking about the first category of Vintage car owners: the ones who do not drive their cars... I guess one could be married without having sex, but it's not really the same experience, isn't it ?

Monday, October 31, 2005

Rendez-Vous in the Waldviertel

She is black, just like Romy… But she is older, bigger and so much more powerful as well… And we were to meet on this full moon week-end, up there on the high plateau of the Waldviertal, the Woods District of Austria. You want to meet her as well ? Just come along !

The Waldviertal… You really have to want to go there. There is no way one can really “pass through” it by chance. Well, that is unless you have something to do in an obscure part of Czekia and in this case it can only be something far less than commendable so let us not speak about it… The “normal” road to Prague is further East, the road to Linz and Germany further South so here you are… Nowhere, in the hearth of old Europe.

But I had no idea what the Waldviertel looked like as I was sipping a “mélange” and enjoying an apricot-struddel (undescribable, you have to come and try !) at 9 AM on the main square in Tulln. Incredible that this absolutely quiet and nondescript little town was able to give birth to one of the genius of painting of the turn of the century: the expressionist Egon Schiele. Schiele, a shooting star of modern painting who died in 1918 at the age of 28 from the Spanish influenza epidemic… Just imagine if he had lived as long as Picasso ! How much have we missed…

One thing is sure, in Tulln Romy was, as usual, attracting this sort of "Watzat ?" attitude....


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The weather was excellent. Somehow hazy but warm enough to drive with the top folded down and in short sleeves. Past Tulln the way to the Wachau Valley was clear along the banks of the Danube. 110 km/h and no sweat. I had this week a total confidence in Romy and her abilities to be in time at the meeting: 1:30 PM in Gmünd.


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Past the wine capital of Krems upstream the Danube flows through the deep carved valley of the Wachau where, on the Northern, sunny bank are produced the grapes that will be made into one of the most renowed Austrian white wines. Of course the 35 km of the trip between Krems and Melk are highly touristic, the Wachau being on the Unesco World Heritage list ( http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/970 ), and we overtook numerous cruise boats, groups of cyclists or simply hikers… But it didn’t remove any part of the pleasure of being there on a sunny Saturday morning, driving Romy through a landscape that has remained so untouched since the the cavemen in Willendorf sculpted one of the earliest feminine representations in the history of mankind. Certainly far from Schiele and his provocative nudes from the early 1900s but still in the same vein and only 30km apart !

Slightly after leaving behind us Melk and its incredible barocco style monastery - A Catholic outpost of the 18th century against the Reformation ! - the atmosphere changed radicaly. We were entering the outskirts of the Waldviertel and its mysteries. At once the road started to climb and wind, following deep and narrow valleys and impenetrable woods. In the Waldviertel the surface of forests is actually in constant progression due to the decline of farming. The animals, without predators, flourish and the area is slowly returning to its state of origin...

After about 20km we eventualy reached the high plateau. Between 500 and 1000m above sea level the landscape is made of rolling wooded hills and narrow valleys as far as the eye can see under a patchy sky of bright blue and dark rain clouds. The villages here are nestled in hollows and clearings apparently as far as possible - and never far enough - from the woods and their unseen menace. There is in the air something eternal here. Somehow as if we, mankind, were only passing through, trespassing on a far more ancient ground. As a matter of fact the area is rich in early remains, standing stones, medieval ruins or still standing proud fortresses perched on top of lofty summits.

But time was running short. These ups and downs bring our average speed down and we had to reach Gmünd before 1.30 PM otherwise we would be missing “her”. The strain of the driving was beginning to weight on me but Romy was just purring along as if her 51 years of age were just a joke ! Eventually, ducking rain showers as we drove we arrived dry at destination shortly after 1.00 PM.

…She had not yet arrived but her smell was in the air. The unmistakable smell of fire… Everybody was waiting for her. Suddenly from far away behind some low industrial buildings we heard a high-pitched shrill fading into a sort of lamenting cry. There she came. Sweating, spitting, smoking, the Mh 399-01 was on its way to meet us.


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399-01 is a steam locomotive. She is over 100 years old and has all this time pulled small toy-like trains on the narrow gauge lines of Austria


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Then, for the following 60 km, followed a wonderful ”hide and seek” game between Romy and 399-01. The little railway line was making its way south towards the little town of Gross Gerungs through the hills and forest of the Waldviertal. Up a slope, down a narrow valley, up a hillside… And so was Romy, trying to follow the track as best as possible and joining her new big black friend at every crossing.


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Soon the passengers of the small toy-like carriages were just as excited as we were to see this strange black cabriolet showing up at every possible opportunity and many a picture was taken of us from the train !


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But as the line was often wandering away from the main highway and we had to drive through narrow roads to keep as close as possible to the tracks. Of course we experienced some delais, being blocked for about ten minutes behind a slow-moving tractor pulling a load of hay but we never lost our friend and it was always a pleasure to hear her whistle blowing in the dsitance as if she were calling us, asking us to wait a little more !


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But again, all things come to an end and after a “parting session” in Gross Gerungs Romy had to turn her long nose towards the East and head back home to Vienna. Another 150 km with the sun setting at our back and always driving with the top down... Another exhilarating experience… As I write I can still feel the thin “Petri” steering wheel between my hands and the gas pedal “rolling” under my foot as I maintain the throttle at mid course, just enough to keep a steady 100/110 km/h… As I start to be tired I stretch my hands and force my back against the wide leather seat, whaooo, another unforgetable Saturday !

See you soon

Gilles

Saturday, October 08, 2005

California girl !

Romy has already told you a bit about her “American cousins” from California. Well, she received today a letter from one of of the most beautiful of them ! A real "California Girl" in her blue and red livery ! So let’s listen to her owner Eric who tells us another incredible “Romy story”...

“It's a What?" (re-printed from "Excellence Magazine" - Photos and text courtesy Eric Meyer)

I first saw a Rometsch Beeskow at a show in the mid 1980’s and knew then that I had to have one. It was one those cars you stop and look at, and then walk around to the other side and look at it and then walk back to the first side and scratch your chin then get down on your knees and peer up under it. There was a big crowd around that car and all sorts of smart VW and Porsche guys were scratching their chins. It was the coolest thing it stumped everyone. This was the car for me. I live for this sort of thing. Forget weird wild accessories here was a whole car nobody had ever seen. It looked like so many other cars I thought perhaps it was a small Mercedes. But I would later discover that it had been designed 4 years earlier than the Mercedes SL and it was in fact Mercedes that was copying Rometsch!

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I spent a long time staring at the thing and noticed another guy doing the same thing. He had been quietly listening to all the know-it-all guys describing exactly what this car was. He smiled and nodded. He listened as it was alternatively described as a pre production Karmann Ghia, a prototype Porsche of some sort, a DKW cabrio special, etc etc. After about 1/2 an hour of listening to everyone describe the car he got in it and drove off! That was the best I was sold.

That guy turned out to be Blue Nelson an avid 356 Porsche and VW coachbuilt collector. I would run into him again after that first meeting and eventually get to know him. I told him of my interest in buying a Rometsch Beeskow and with his help, in 1998, after some 13 years of searching; I was able to buy a Beeskow of my own.

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A complex set of random circumstances led to my purchase of this car. It is fairly involved so you're going to have to bear with me:
Among other things I am a lover of VW 23 window Microbuses. A bus of mine was featured at the "VW Classic" show in Southern California. Later I was contacted over the telephone by a fellow named Brad asking me if I want led to sell the bus. I said "no thanks, I like the bus and drive it a lot."
He said that he really wanted to buy the bus and was I sure. I was getting sort of perturbed by his insistence so I said NO again. He asked "well if you did want to sell the bus how much would it be?” I didn’t want to sell it but I thought well, what can it hurt and gave him a number that was pretty high. He basically just said ok and I sat there for about ten seconds sort of stunned and then said ok. Anyway, Brad had received my number from Blue Nelson and was actually negotiating to buy the bus for Jerry Seinfeld. As it turns out Jerry knew a lot more about Microbus pricing than I did because right after I sold it the prices seemed to skyrocket.

At the time all of this was happening I was living in Santa Barbara and would occasionally see Jonathan Winters (the comedian) when out and about. The afternoon following the phone call to sell the bus I got in it for one last drive. I stopped at the store to get a smoothie and Jonathan was sitting there at one of the outside tables. When I came back to the bus he was staring in the window at it. He asked me if I wanted to sell it and I was thinking “what is it with microbuses and comedians today”? When I explained that I had just sold it to Jerry he asked if he could leave a note for Jerry to discover He wrote: “Dear Jerry, if you can attach Arnold Schwarzenegger to the roofrack with duct tape, and affix an number of sleigh bells on him I’d love to cruise Van Nuys Blvd. with you on the 24th” (this was a couple of months before Christmas and years before Arnold became governor)

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Anyway The reason that Brad and Blue knew each other is because Brad also had a Rometsch Beeskow.

This seems to be how you find most rare cars. You’re sitting there minding your own business sorting towels in the garage and your friend brings over some guy knows some other guy who has a buddy next door who’s dad died and now there is some weird car and nobody knows what the hell it is but his mom wants to sell it and would I like to go see it? Jeez manhop in the car let’s go.

So I pester the crap out of Blue and Brad about selling the Beeskow. No no not for sale etc etc. (we all know this song) and then one day right before April 15th as I recall Blue calls saying that Brad wants to sell the Beeskow. Needless to say I don’t think many Toyota Landcruisers have ever gotten from Santa Barbara to LA in less than an hour but it can be done.

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Brad purchased the Beeskow from the second owner in 1993. He kept the car in a storage hanger at an LA area airport until I bought it in 1998. Prior to Brad’s stewardship it was owned by a Hollywood film editor that worked at both CBS and Universal Studios. The parking stickers for these studios are still on the windshield. It was his second Beeskow and he bought it in 57 or 58. He had wrecked the first one on Malibu canyon on his way to his other job as a lifeguard! (there is also still a lifeguard sticker on the windshield). He purchased this Beeskow second hand from a sports car dealer in Los Angeles. (I am presuming it was Rometsch dealer “Hollywood Sports Cars” but this is not verified.) He stopped driving it in 1973 and just parked it in his garage. I don’t know who the first owner was but both Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck owned Beeskows in the fifties. I’d like to think it was one of them (but, more likely, it was titled a “used car” only because it had been bought in Europe by an American citizen in order to get around the export license problem Rometsch had due to being from Occupied Germany and then just went straight to the dealer in North Hollywood). Who knows it is a fun mystery anyway.

So when I bought the car it had not been started or driven since 1973 24 years. My friend Bob Heintz and I looked over the engine it still turned ok. So we changed the oil, the spark plugs and the brake fluid added some gas and started it I put it in gear and then drove it around the block! Amazing. The damn thing ran fine after 24 years in storage.

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The car was all there but it had four paint jobs on it. One white, one silver and two reds! That Hollywood guy had repainted the car 3 times between ‘57 and “73 weird. I hired Jason Ransbottom of “Rustbox” in Ventura, CA to strip the paint off the car and help carefully remove all the bits and pieces. All of the bits were sorted in little baggies blah blah blah. The chrome was sent to Christensen Plating in Los Angeles, the silver cadmium plated bits were sent to Van Nuys Plating, Steve Herron, a vintage Porsche and Devin-Porsche racer, rebuilt the Okrasa Motor with a larger period Empi crank, Porsche 90mm pistons, Porsche 1300s cam, Pre A Solex 32 pcib carbs, and larger valve Okrasa heads. It dyno’d at 69 HP. The metal finishing was carried out by Henry Wehr. The paint and finish was applied by Victor Miles’ Porsche 356 restoration shop “Concours Refinishing” in Santa Barbara. The upholstery was carried out by Richard Jeffers in Santa Barbara. North Hollywood Speedometer rebuilt all the gauges.

We painted it with Glasurit. The color is VW Azure Blue from 1952. It is a very, very attractive color. I highly recommend you paint at least one car in your life this color and put a red interior in it. I can’t explain why you should do this because I am happily married. But you just have to trust me and go do it especially if you are single.

When you restore a Porsche or VW you can call any number of characters and get rubber or chrome bits or a plastic trim piece. When you restore a coachbuilt you are basically out there by yourself like Star Trek “where no one has gone before”. You have to make almost everything or figure out where it came from originally. You have to research each part individually in order to find replacement parts. Some parts are VW primarily the chassis and suspension. Some parts are from other cars like the exterior door handles (Mercedes 300s), the turn signals are Hella stock items used on a number of low production cars, the window winder handles are Mercedes, The dash lights are Porsche (1950 51 only!), The side trim is unique, the license lights are unique, the door windows and winders are unique, the headlight trim rings are from a German bus company, etc, etc. I am now in possession of a lot of weird automobile parts supply knowledge that has absolutely no value to anyone except me and maybe 6 other guys (But for the six other guys it is as precious as gold - note from Gilles !).

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The hard part is making parts. Rubber for instance. We had to make the rubber. Go try that sometime fun, fun, fun. Or the back half of the passenger door. We had to make that too. Or the license lights yepcompound curves in steel My buddy Henry made them from scratch. Go walk out to your 356 or your 911 and imagine making some of that stuff this will give you an idea about restoring a coachbuilt. The windshield is treated like the baby Jesus coddled and swathed in soft cotton blankets and talked about in hushed tones it is completely irreplaceable unless any of you know where the car it came from, a Goliath GP750, is being parted out. I spent an entire day removing that windshield from the car you could watch my hairline recede.

So a lot of time was spent in a lot of weird places all over Europe finding the bits and pieces necessary to rebuild the car to new. The Rometsch coachbuilder badges were acquired from Rometsch itself when I went there with Blue Nelson prior to it’s final closing. They were still there. Except that they were now just a body shop specializing in Mazdas or something weird like that. Not too many Mazda’s in Berlin. There was a small pile of about 6 of the badges in a drawer upstairs above the shop floor. I looked at them like Indiana Jones looking at the Holy Grail. Blue’s voice quivered as he inquired with the gentleman who ran the shop. He just gave them to us. You have never heard grown men squeal like we did as we got back to the car that day. The rear emblem on the engine cover I bought from another Rometsch owner who only had one probably the only spare Rometsch script lettering in the world! The taillights were found NOS (new old stock) in Holland on the bottom shelf of an old car dealer in a dusty torn box. I had been searching for 3 years for those lights. Blue had a set of the sun Visors (unique to Rometsch Beeskow and VW Hebmuller cars). It was a wild goose chase at every turn but after 4 years eventually everything was found and the car reassembled into the concours condition it is now.

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It has won best of show or first in class at every event it has been in. It is a blast to drive and with 69 HP it is much faster than it’s 36 HP VW cousins. Nobody really knows what it is so if you park it and just listen to people try and figure it out it is often pretty funny. Usually it is thought to be a Karmann Ghia or sometimes a Volvo, a Fiat, a Borgward, a Porsche or a Mercedes. Occasionally someone will know. Seinfeld came by at one show. I had only met him very briefly after I sold the microbus years earlier. He looked at the Beeskow for a long time before asking, “ is this the Rometsch Brad had?”

One day last year my buddy and I were at a coffee shop in Grover Beach CA, and a lady in her late 70’s walked by and glanced at the car “Look”, she said to her friend, “a Rometsch Beeskow”. I about fell over. At shows the hardcore people know what it is occasionally but that lady at the coffee shop just blew me away. I asked her about it and she said “I used to like cars” and then drove off in her Dodge Caravan!

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Monday, September 19, 2005

Romy, self-portrait (part 1)...

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Well, I admit I like being praised, admired, loved, and Gilles, the guy who writes about me on this Blog is doing that all the time... It is somehow embarassing even if at my age it is rather pleasant and reassuring to receive such hommages ! I'm 51 years old since January, you know, and re-born again with 0 km on the odometer since the 14th of May...

I must admit that I owe a lot to Gilles, my third owner/lover, who has had so much patience in bringing me back to life and I shall tell you a bit more about how we met some day... But lots of you readers do not know me and might like to know how I came into being... You call me Romy, as Gilles does, but my real name is more subtle...

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Indeed you should call me Beeskow, Rometsch Beeskow, as per my Dad’s name: Johannes Beeskow, a famous German designer who used to “dress up” with fabulous coachbuilt bodies the most lavish and luxurious pre-war cars like Mercedes, BMW, Horsch or Daimler… Rometsch, well that is so to say my “godfather” or second father: Fritz Rometsch to be preceise who let himself be convinced by my dad to launch just after the war a luxury cabriolet in a still partly ruined Berlin. They both needed quite a vision - and a good deal of inconscience – to bring me into being but quite honestly nobody eventually regretted it and this is how I found myself exhibited in a corner of a big hall at the Berlin Motorshow in 1950.

Of course, when speaking about my birth, it is difficult not to talk about my Uncle Ferdinand, the whiz-kid of the family, the father of my cousins Beetle and 356 and whose genius was at the starting point of my conception. Having said that, we are not an easy-going, happy familly and our relations have never been devoid of tensions… No nice Christmas dinners were to be had in the family factory in Wolfsburg ! Personally I have had to suffer incomprehension and jealousy. I was always the “Berliner”, considered snobish and posh… They even nicknamed me “Banana” and that was something I really didn’t like…

Of course these two “red necks” had matter enough to be jealous! When you live in a lost corner of Lower Saxony (*) or in a godforsaken Austrian valley (*) you sort of feel you have a duty to criticize the family member who leads a successful career in the Capital City and even to set up a few booby traps in front of her steps if possible… But let me just tell you more.

My Dad had very early understood that our “Volkswagen” family was one of great potential ! We have, one has to recognize, a quite ubiquitous gene set (I even have a cousin working as a bus, see !) but his own vision of our destiny had only to do with Luxury, Class and High Society ! And the result ??? Well, here I am !

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With 4.40 m from shinning bumper to shinning bumper, I was by far the tallest of my family (Cousin Beetle was a good 40cm shorter) and with 1.35m at the top of the windshield also the slimer which gave me this elongated and elegant figure. Beetle was more the “round and easy-going” type, if you see what I mean, and Cousin Karmann-Ghia (Arrrgh, the little pest…) was yet to be born… Some claimed that I was not practical enough, offering only seating for three (the rear seat being a small, sideways built,and narrow affair…) while there was enough space in the engine compartment to fit a “flat 8” if ever available ! As if all these trivial details were of the slightest importance ! Do you expect Nicole Kidman to be also a weight lifter ??? Jealousy, jealousy…

Well, I must admit there are quite a few good reasons for it… From my family I have retained only… what is not visible but gives the endurance, reliability and simplicity that have made the renown of the “Volkswagen” dynasty: an unbreakable chassis, a simple, efficient and innovative suspension and a small but so brave little 1200 CC 30 HP engine that would propell me to the edge of the world if… the roads were not so dusty… Lets’s leave Katmandu to Cousin Type 2…
Everything else, everything you can see, that is, is the creation of my dad Beeskow. My 3-component body: steel for the skeleton, wood for the door pilars and softtop base and aluminium for the skin, just like planes and racing cars ! And all this is not machine or factory made, absolutely not ! We are talking about hand-made highly skilled work, “haute couture” for luxury cars ! At my godfather’s workshop in Berlin there weure no hydraulic presses to be found but wooden forms and hand tooling with the help of which a small team of wonderful craftsmen manufactured my body piece after piece, adjusting, forming, welding while others cut through leather and cloth to upholster me in the lavishest way… In its hemdays, the workshop had more to do with Father Christmas and his Elves making toys at the North Pole than the with the Wolfsburg… “Sweatshop”… And nothing was too beautiful for me and my future owners, the client was (sometimes really !) a King: Petri brand banjo steering wheels, engine “improved” by a sorcerer like Okrasa or Denzel or coming directly from Stuttgart, supersized brakes “stealed” from Cousin 356. Everything was possible and my equipment level only depended on the imagination (and the depth of the pockets…) of my future lovers… And believe it or not, even after this terrible war there was still money to be found in Berlin.

According to Daddy Beeskow my first lover was a movie star (what a “début” !). Victor de Kowa, a famous German postwar artist, bought model #1 on the very stand of the 1950 Berlin Motorshow ! And my dad fixed himself the price (and he is not a salesman, no, no, no…): the same as what Porsche was asking for Cousin 356 a few meters away. To this day I am still sure he could have asked for a lot more because De Kowa did not even negotiate split payments. He took out his cheque book and ordered on the spot a second car, a coupé, for his girlfriend who did not liked to have her hairdress undone in open-air cars. That was only the beginning of my golden years…

Within a few weeks and with such a “launch” I became the queen of the Berlin social life. My godfather Fritz’s order-books filled up quicker that he could produce. 1951, 1952, my success was irresistible… In 1953 and 1954 I won two years in a row the “Golden Rose” crowning the nicest car of each category at the Geneva Motorshow (the Italians were green with rage…), my charm made me a real “head-turner” and even Mercedes would copy my general line and famous “eyebrows” on the front fenders on their 190 and 300 SL. Thanks to the presence in Berlin of the Ameriacan Forces, my reputation crossed the Atlantic and export orders from California came in and brought some sunshine to the gray German skies. Even Audrey Hepburn, the Audrey Hepburn posed in front of her new Rometsch Beeskow and opened my way into Hollywood… What a day ! I can still feel her fragile little hand like a bird on my front hood ! Golden years it was… But over there, 200km to the west in their boring, grim and industrious forgotten hole of Wolfsburg, my “Volkswagen” family was finding it every day more difficult to put up with my succesful socialite lifestyle and were preparing a trick of their own…

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(*) Wolfsburg is located in the "Land" of Lower Saxony and the first Porsche models were produced in Gmünd in Carinthia (Austria).

(to be continued)

Romy, self-portrait (part 2)...

“Families, I hate you !” wrote Vallès, a French 19th century writer. I could take this sentence as mine ! My family had found itself a protector, a powerful one ! The British Corps of Engineer who had helped the Wolfsburg factory to be re-born from its ashes in 1945 handed over the responsibility of the company to a certain Nordhoff. Nordhoff, instrument of my fate ! It is difficult to tell how much I have had to suffer from him ! Judge by yourself…

Short after his arrival he started to embrigade the family and distill his venom: “Without you this “Berliner Romy” is nothing, she is just a pretentious little chick who thinks herself a “Grande Dame”… We must cut her supplies and she will see how it is to survive without us, how she depends on her family… let’s not send any more chassis and engines and we shall see if she is smart enough to keep up her Berlin social life…” and every year it became more and more difficult to keep things going and to get enough chassis to meet the orders… A real mind raker for my Godfather Rometsch, but the truth is that Nordhoff had a well set-up plan from the very beginning: he was preparing the launch of my rival !!! And to make things worse he had enroled the Italian “mafia” as partners in crime ! The result: in 1955 here came the Karmann Ghia.

Karmann Ghia… How often has she haunted my nightmares… I would have liked to break her headlights, dent her body and make her swallow her cocky little pointed beak ! Aaargh… And what was she after all ? A „nouveau riche“, a starlet, nothing more, launched with a lot of money and hundreds of engineers, not a work of art, an act of passion and faith as me ! She was just one more postwar “product”… Well I admit you can find her figure enticing if you like machine-pressed factory chain-manufactured steel… But really, we were not playing in the same league, the market was big enough for two and her buyers were not my buyers, no ? She was also 40% cheaper than me… Not the same league, I assure you, absolutely not !

But from this point onwards Nordhoff became inflexible. Not a single chassis was to be spared for me. That was a pure and simple disaster… My Godfather could not see any solution. After trying desperately and without success to negotiate with Wolfsburg he resorted to some extreme measures like buying entire finished Beetles and dismantling them alive to get to their much needed chassis… But even this was not allowed by Nordhoff: no more Beetles for Rometsch ! Godfather Fritz asked then to his employees and even to our customers to buy the precious bases in their own names to find a way around this boycott… Out of desperation, certainly, he even gave me a little sister and launched in 1957 a new model designed by a new Berlin designer: Bert Lawrence. This was clearly an attempt to compete with the “american” lines of the Karmann Ghia but at the same time my timeless and unique style was gone… But I also have to recognize that times were changing. In Stuttgart Cousin 356 had already met a huge success in a quite more “sportive” style, I was no longer alone and all sorts of young, ambitious and cheaper “wanabees” were there to steal my lovers away ! If only I hadn’t had this chassis problem…

However, the actual “coup de grace” was to come from a totaly unexpected direction: not from Wolfsburg to the West but from the East… Even Nordhoff couldn’t have imagined such a plot ! One morning in July 1961 Helmutt the panel beater did not arrive on time. Nothing serious obviously if Matthias the upholsterer had not also been missing as well as more than two thirds of our employees ! I fact, all those who were living in the Russian zone of the divided town, did not come that day… and never more: during the night a row of barbed wire that was soon to become a wall of shame had put the last nail in the coffin of Coachbuilt Rometsches… We were so complex to built that only our highly skilled “Elves” were able to bring us to life and they had just been sentenced to 28 years behind the Iron Curtain.

Tha was 45 years ago… After all this time how much are we left in the family ? Difficult to say. Personally I was born in 1954 and I bear the number 174, engraved of punched in several hidden places of my body like the wipers engine support or behind my characteristic chromed moustache. But I believe that Godfather Fritz was not accounting his Beeskows separately from the taxis or other coachbuilts manufactured in the workshop. I guess we are between 150 and 200 “Beeskow” to have left the Nestorstrasse to seek fortune in the big world. Many have tried their luck across the Atlantic and one has even become part of the Royal Family of Sweden. When I told you that we had class ! But many years have gone by and the god of all “flat 4s” knows that some water flowed over our aluminium body, and salt also…

I haven’t been to school but I know enough to say that my Dad Beeskow had produced with me quite a deadly combination: aluminium + steel + salt (in winter) = electrolysis ! We were carrying our own time-bomb as entire parts of our steel skeleton could simply disappear, rusted, eaten should I say away, even more quickly that you could imagine ! So, how many Beeskow are actualy left ? Around 30 are known worldwide… And that is with all the cripple, semi wrecks or undriveable cars ! I think we are only ten or so to have been restored to the prime of our beauty but all, even the more derilicts are still able to inspire passion to make their lovers dream and commit all sort of folies.

Every single one of the Rometsch Beeskow stories I know is one of love, passion and patience. As it is almost impossible to find a restored Beeskow for sale even the most miserable cripple is a much sought after match ! And so there are always men brave (or crazy) enough to buy us in any condition, to invest in the restoration of a single one of us enough to fill a garage with a whole collection of more… normal cars. Most wait years before they have the chance to sit behind our steering wheel and start the engine ! Years during which they collect parts, information and money before they get a chance to look for the “right” man, the one who will be able to resuscítate our precious beings… I tell you, I am a fatal attraction, one of a lifetime and, for a 50-year old lady, I am rather proud of it…

And then, with time past, our family feuds have also cooled down and I am even happy to meet my surviving cousins from Wolfsburg, Stuttgart or Osnabruck (yes, even the Karmann-Ghia !) on the roads to those so-called “vintage” meetings… As if we were so old ! They are also timeless ladies and share strong emotional affairs with the youngsters taking care of them. So, at the end of the day, is there anything sweeter than to drive away and go turn heads on a beautiful June morning on a secondary coutryside road ? So, have a good drive and see you soon in Hessisch Oldendorf, Bad Camberg, Rambouillet or on the slopes of the Grossglockner and please, please… don’t call me Banana any more !

Romy