A classical 1930s American automobile

GOOD things, as the man in the cheese advert says, take time.
Twelve years ago Mostly Motorsport featured a 1938 Chrysler restored by Carterton accountant Kerry Dudson ? with a lot of help from his mates.
At that time Kerry described himself "the permanent apprentice ... most of the credit has to go to my friends".
In the Chrysler story we mentioned another car Kerry had salted away, a 1934 Terraplane four-door which had been restored by the late Bill Olsen, of Palmerston North.
Kerry has just completed a total restoration of a companion car, a 1934 Terraplane coupe which has to be one of the most striking vehicles around.
The Terraplanes had been registered by different people in different towns when Kerry bought them 12 years apart, but they have (spooky music, maestro, please) consecutive numbered plates, CH7273 for the coupe and CH7274 for the four-door. Even an accountant like Kerry can't figure the odds of something like that happening.
And along with the two cars Kerry has absorbed a fascination for for a marque which flared into life in 1932 and which disappeared from 1939.
"You never hear much about Terraplanes, but they were one of the best cars around in their day," he says.
As a teenager I lusted after a Terraplane coupe, and looking at Kerry's newly-completed project the pulse quickens again 50 years on.
But it wasn't until last weekend that I discovered where the name came from. As aeroplane is to air, and hydroplane is to water, so Terraplane (as in terra firma) is to land. That's logical.
The parent company was Hudson, founded in 1909 and a technology leader for many years. In 1911 they were one of the first to build closed cars and in 1916 they introduced the first balanced crankshaft.
In 1929 Hudson introduced a sensation, an all-steel body (when most firms were still fastening steel to wooden frames) which sold for fractionally more than the market-leading General Motors and Ford.
The story goes that in seeking a name for the new car, the company bosses peered at a map of England and selected Essex as sufficiently posh-sounding.
Essex merged into the Hudson production line in 1919 (previously they had been contracted-out) and in 1932 they launched the Essex Terraplane, a small, powerful (six cylinder) car designed to compete for depression-year dollars.
The actual launch was done by famed aviatrix Amelia Earhart.
By 1933 "Essex" was history and the car had become the Hudson Terraplane'
At that time Hudson held the record for the famous Pike's Peak hillclimb, a performance measure that remains to this day.
In 1933 the Terraplane got a straight eight engine as well as the six, and was an immediate success. The small engine shattered economy records and Terraplane eclipsed Hudson with the eight-cylinder motor, claiming the Pike's Peak and other records.
The fast and powerful Terraplane straight eight was the transport of choice for bank robber John Dillinger, who found that in it he could blow away pursuing Ford V8s. In 1933 Dillinger and his girlfriend, Billie Frechette, had a running machinegun battle with the police after a robbery in St Paul. They escaped but left the Terraplane behind.
In the late 1960s or early 70s enthusiasts recovered the car and did a ground-up restoration. During that they found several bullet holes, probably from the St Paul gunbattle.
The success story wasn't all good news, however.
Enthusiasts say the Terraplane tail was wagging the Hudson dog, and the parent company was not amused by the upstart's performance. The straight eight was withdrawn from Terraplane and the 1934 straight eight Hudson reclaimed the Pike's Peak record.
By 1939 the Terraplane line was dropped.
Hudson threw itself into wartime production but, badly hurt by the depression, it faded postwar, with the last Hudson produced in 1957.
Kerry Dudson, a car nut from way back (he still has the original family Morris 1000, plus his late mother's car, his aunt's car, plus several what he calls "sleepers", cars he expects to become classics), finds himself more and more focussed on big American machines.
He is especially fond of Hudson.
"They made mistakes ? in 1934 they made 28 different models ? but they made bloody good cars," he says.
He has "several" Terraplanes for parts for future projects, including a straight eight coupe. Each has its story. There's a couple of crashed stock cars, and one that, the story goes, was wrecked when it crashed into a "night cart" (sewage collection vehicle) on the West Coast. Most importantly, he has three of the fabled straight eight engines.
He also has a couple of monstrous (19ft) 1952 Packard sedans he rescued from the hills of Wellington, cars which had gorse trees ? not bushes ? growing through them. One will probably take to the road again.
And everywhere you look there's another Morris Minor and other motoring memorabilia.
But it's that fabulous Terraplane coupe sitting in the corner that is the focus today. Finished in near-black blue this former doctor's car is close to mint.
"It is very original," says Kerry. "It was owned by Dr W.W.Moore in Hastings ? I've got the original handbook with his handwritten notes, plus there's a nametag on the keys ? I was extremely lucky to get it. It was expensive but it came with lots of spares, including motors."
It's a small car, as American autos go - a 116in wheelbase on this de luxe model, compared with 112in on the standard car.
There's a dickey seat where the boot should be, and the rear window winds down to allow communication from front to dickey seat.
The side windows are tricky ? there's a quarterlight window, essential equipment for smokers ? which can wind down with the main window if necessary. The doors are rear-hinged. The windscreen cranks out to give improved airflow.
The straight-six 2.5 litre engine produces 16.9hp.and a top speed of 75mph (the 8-cylinder motor pushed the car to 85mph).
A feature is the semi-independent Axleflex front suspension. A parallelogram arrangement keeps the front wheels vertical, despite movements over the road surface. On rough early New Zealand roads the system wasn't effective, and Kerry has an example where a steel plate has been welded over the arms to lock them.
His four-door 1934 sedan has the alternative beam axle, which he says is is dray-like by comparison on modern roads.
The restoration of the coupe took 10 years.
Kerry still works fulltime, but he dreams of winning Lotto and being able to devote all his time to his car projects.
And he still rates himself the "permanent apprentice", although he reckons he's moved up the scale a bit. And he still has lots of appreciation for the tradesman friends who made the project possible.
"I've learnt a hellava lot in 15 years ? hard lessons, expensive lessons," he says.
But an end result like the Terraplane coupe makes it all worth while.