April 2021
Recently I found an old family photo album with pictures of my wife Judie, now passed, and me in our old Morgan. Memories came flooding back, to my second year of law school, when we were living together as newlyweds in a basement apartment in Elizabeth, New Jersey. It was autumn, 1961. Judie had struck up a friendship with a young couple in the adjacent apartment building and made plans with them for a dinner double date. They offered to drive, so at the appointed time we waited in anticipation outside of our building on Waverley Place. Suddenly, from around the corner, flew a brand new, British racing green 2+2 Morgan, coming to a dramatic halt in front of us. The driver smiled and waved us over with his driving gloves. We were going to dinner in a Morgan? I could not believe my luck. How did Judie find two people with a Morgan in Elizabeth, New Jersey? They seemed a lovely couple, but I confess I was much more interested in their car. I was an admitted car obsessive, and this was beyond my wildest expectations. I owned a Morris Minor in 1960 and had recently traded it in for a 219 Mercedes sedan with the gift money from our wedding. But a Morgan! I had never actually seen one outside the pages of my car afficionado magazines. Climbing into the narrow backseat was an exercise in dexterity. Judie was fine—she was a trim 5 feet. My extra 7 inches in height made a big difference in a Plus 2. My knees were crushed up against my chest…and I couldn’t have been happier. Thus began my infatuation with the Morgan.
Years later, in 2000, I finally bought my own Morgan. I found a green Drop Head restored by a fellow in Connecticut. The owner shared his own story with me. As I inspected the car in a private airport, he told me how he had recently been divorced and was selling all his possessions, including his Morgan, to travel around the world in a sailboat, which he was purchasing with the proceeds from the sale of the car. The truth was, he made the deal with me at “hello.” It was perfect. After a short drive around the tarmac, I knew it was for us. I knew Judie would love it and she did, for the next 17 years.
The Morgan became our weekend car and as our family grew it was the picnic car our rides to Shelter Island. When Minnie, our darling long-haired Dachshund joined the family, she found her place between us in the front seat. Judie is gone now as is Minnie. The children have grown and moved on. I cannot think of selling the Morgan. It is like a rock that holds down all those wonderful memories over the last 21 years.
