Saturday, March 26, 2011

'Til Daddy Takes the T-Bird Away


Last week my friend, and fellow blogger, wrote a piece on her love of retro futurism in home design. I may have played a small role. You see, we had a brief discussion on 1950’s design and she ran with it from her way so I decided to run with mine.

As a kid one Christmas I got a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air Convertible Barbie car. Love is the only word I could use to describe how I felt about that car. I lost interest in the Ferrier I already had, it just wasn’t as cool. For years the Chevy stayed in my closet because I couldn’t bear to part with it. It came to represent a time in history I will never be a part of but will always have a fascination with.

Because of that toy car I now drool at the site of any automobile influenced by the Space Race. I mean, just look at the ’57 Chevy. It actually looks like it could take off and land on the moon! The chrome accentuates in all the right places and the instrument panel looks like it came straight off a rocket ship. Sadly though, it’s not the kind of car I would like to drive.

During the late 1940s and early 50’s members of The Greatest Generation came home from World War II, got married, and moved to the suburbs. The working class man needed a vehicle he could not only commute in but also take his wife, 2.5 children and the family dog on a picnic or to a drive-in movie or something. Gas was also $0.25 a gallon then. By today’s standards this car runs like glue and guzzles gas. But at least it still looks good.

As long as there was Cold War tension there were museum quality car designs. Even England and France got in on the act with their Austin Healey, Jaguar MK II, and Renault Caravelle. I’d drive the Jag or the Healey in a heartbeat. I’m not picky.

But, alas, it seems the minute Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon Americans gave up on producing beautiful cars. The 70s were a confusing time for motor vehicles. And, in truth, it was a confusing time for America. How else can you explain the AMC Pacer? It screams “does my butt look big in this?” and I just don’t get it. Wayne of Wayne’s World drove a Pacer and it was a giant joke. These were not the cars that inspired the Beach Boy. And the 80’s weren’t much help.

Enter the DeLorean. In three of the greatest movies of all time this was a car that literally transcended time and space. But it was ugly and completely rubbish but it, too, looked out of this world (in an art gallery far, far away). This was supposed to be the car of the future. Until the company went belly up.

To be honest, I’m not looking forward to the cars of the future. I found a picture of a Mazda Kaan (see below) that looks like a Dyson vacuum cleaner. Hopefully it will never go to production. Even if it does look like a rocket ship. I’m sure it’s environmentally friendly and it probably comes part easily for cleaning and storage.

No, the future of car design doesn’t not excite me much. Nothing seems to compare to the design of the 50s/ 60s era. Perhaps it never will. You see, I live on what’s known as the Space Coast of Florida. I grew up here. Every other school field trip I took was to Kennedy Space Center. And now I’m counting down the days to the last ever shuttle flight. Or at least until funding is restored, which may not happen for years. So it seems America is out of what’s left of the Space Race.

It was good while it lasted. And some designs really have lasted. Take the Ford GT, for example. Originally built in the early 60s the GT40 looked fasted because it was fast. It may not have appeared as if it drove off the pages of a 194- Sci Fi poster but in most ways it looked out of this world without being alien. But here’s the thing, the overall design hasn’t changed much, it’s only been tweaked. The GT still exists today, proving great design really is timeless.


I just hope that time is somewhere around 1957.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

What’s in a Name?

I’ve recently Googled my name. Fess up, you’ve done it too. We all have. I was bored and needed to fill five minutes of my time. Normally I would’ve Googled some book I heard about but I decided to shake things up a bit.

At this point I should probably introduce myself. My name is Kendel.

Growing up I heard every Ken Doll joke elementary school children could imagine. None were very clever. When someone calls out "Kendel" I’m the only one who turns around. But I do share my name with many law firms, towing companies, and even a winery. And, I suppose, one of the Kardashian’s younger sisters. Otherwise my name is fairly unique and I like that. Don’t get me wrong, traditional or Biblical names like Sarah and James are nice too. And at least they can find their names on souvenir key chains.

Recently Google went and got all fancy with its instantaneously generated searches. On the list of suggestions I noticed Kendal Castle. Naturally I zeroed in. I mean, who doesn’t want a castle with their name on it? It beats the hell out of key chain.


Looking at the pictures, the “castle” more or less resembles something I built at the beach one summer when I was nine. Designed on the spot and washed away just as fast. After reading about it for a minute I learned it’s located in Kendal, Cumbria, England. That got me thinking.

Typically my first name is someone else’s last name but I never thought about the last name really coming from anywhere in particular. Now, I’ve seen Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves enough times to know he’s Robin of Locksley because he’s from Locksley. Why is that important? Because he’s English and the English have surnames instead of last names.

Once upon a time, when Kendal Castle was new, people were “of Kendal”. Their surname was Kendal. This idea formed in all of about two seconds but I could have slapped myself upside the head for not piecing it together sooner.


So, I am Old English for the point where the River Kent meets the dale. And the more I read about my English namesake the more I like it. Catherine Parr – King Henry VIII’s sixth and final wife (he died, she kept her head) – was born there in 1512. There’s even a mint cake from the area. York Peppermint Patty, eat your heart out!

Further self analysis lead to an epiphany. Kendel, in fact, suits me. As a kid I loved Paddington Bear. I enjoy a proper cup of tea. Roundabouts don’t confuse me in the slightest. I always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and wait quietly in line. In short, I exhibit quite a few British characteristics.

For the first time my love of Wang Chung makes since.