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© 2000 Brian F. Schreurs
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Ms. Cooper selected a new 1940 Chrysler Royal coupe. The inline-six engine provided enough power and the coupe body was not overly cumbersome. No one knows why she wanted the car in grey. Perhaps she did not like to stand out too much. The lack of a back seat, however, is no mystery. It was a $45 option and at the time she felt it frivolous. She paid $789 for the car.

As with many hopes of the World War II era, her well-considered plan to get through the War collided with the harsh realities of gas and rubber rationing. Her Chrysler spent most of the war on blocks.

When the War ended, Ms. Cooper put the Royal back on the road. In fact, it was her only transportation until the day she passed away in 1967. During this period, her young nephew Thomas Field frequently rode with her, sitting on a milk crate where a backseat might have gone.

After her passing, Tom Field, now all grown up, imposed upon her estate to release the car to him for $100. They did so. Mr. Field named the car "Adja," the same nickname he had for his aunt while she lived. The Chrysler became a link to his past.

Adja in what was very nearly her final resting spot.

The origin of the color change to black is unclear. Perhaps it was part of a small sum Mr. Field paid to have the car "fixed up" sometime after he purchased it. Mr. Field drove Adja for a while. It took him to his enterprise, Tax Analysts, a nonprofit tax publishing company he formed in 1974.

One day in 1979, Adja barely limped to work. An unknown problem with the carburetor left the Chrysler undriveable. Mr. Field parked the car behind the Tax Analysts headquarters to be dealt with later.

After a few years it became obvious to Mr. Field that he was not going to be driving Adja anytime soon. He bought a succession of car covers, each of which were ripped off by the wind. Eventually he gave up on the endeavor.

In 1986, a concerned employee filled the cylinders with motor oil in the hope that it might protect the engine from seizing.

Tax Analysts said farewell to the original company headquarters in June 1998. The company was retaining the building and planned to move it, but it would no longer be used as company offices. A young editor who had only been with the company for a few weeks took a walk around the property. There, covered with leaves and up to its hubcaps in mud, was the Chrysler. As he approached the car, a cat darted from its interior, through the floor. Pretty neat he thought to himself.

She sits neglected, worn, and yet the pride in the coupe still shows.

Summer turned to fall and the editor paid a visit to the old car about once a week. He put up the windows and moved loose trim pieces to the interior where they wouldn't be lost. As winter approached, he grew concerned about the fate of the car and mustered the strength to pursue its owner. After making a few calls around the company, he found the owner to be none other than his employer -- the president of Tax Analysts, Mr. Thomas F. Field!

The editor was nervous about approaching Mr. Field about the car but the thought of it sitting there all winter gave him the strength to pursue it. Mr. Field turned out to be quite chatty about the car. He explained its history and said he hoped one of his children would restore it.

Mystery solved, the editor tried to forget about the old black coupe.

He didn't pay the car another visit until the following summer. In fact, he was surprised to find it was still parked in the same place. It looked exactly the same, save for a couple more vanished trim bits, and the passenger-side hood wouldn't open. Somewhat concerned, he contacted Mr. Field again. This time, Mr. Field said that his children were not interested in restoring the car, and that he thought he might freshen up the engine a bit and try to sell it for a few thousand dollars.

The young man replied that a running car needing a total restoration wasn't really worth any more money than a non-running car needing a total restoration. He wrote the car off, figuring it was lost to the stubbornness of its owner, as so many once-restorable cars had gone before it.

He figured wrong.

Damage from incautious parking shows on her fenders. Note the county tax dutifully paid and stickered on a car which hasn't seen a public road in over two decades.

In October 1999 he was called to a meeting with Mr. Field to discuss "the car." After probing his interest in old cars, Mr. Field made a proposal: Promise to keep the car sheltered and restore it someday, and it was his -- for free! The editor, who already owned a classic car, knew that there was no such thing as a "free" car. It would need a tremendous amount of work, and it would hog half the garage until it was running again. He thought about that for a nanosecond before replying "you've got a deal!"

That editor was me, and I got the deal of a lifetime. No, the car's not worth much and it never will be (six-cylinder cars play second fiddle to their inline-eight brothers). But I now own a prewar MoPar with a complete drivetrain and a documented history! It is an old-car buff's dream. So how did I get it home?

I joined the Antique Automobile Club of America and made some contacts. Through the Bull Run Region I met Bill Humphries. Bill leases tow trucks for a living and keeps one handy for his own use. It's a stinker, spewing out the most God-awful emissions imaginable, but Bill knows a thing or two about hauling non-running antique cars. He was my man for the job.

Bill inspected the car. He put it in neutral and released the emergency brake. The transmission, happily, still works. Neither of us were surprised to find that the brakes were frozen. The rear wheels weren't going to turn when we tried to move the car.

Bill used an air compressor to inflate the tires -- they were all flat -- and they all held air, at least for a while. Then he lined up his truck with the car. We unwound the winch and wrapped it around the end of the frame. He tried to pull it out with the winch but it was not strong enough. That car was stuck!

No matter. Instead, Bill climbed up into the cab while I grabbed the steering wheel of the Chrysler to guide the car out. The truck possessed the power lacking in the winch, and the coupe moved for the first time in 20 years. The rear wheels, unwilling to turn, plowed through a paste of mud, gravel, leaves, and debris. When they hit clear pavement, slowly one wheel started to turn -- then the other! They broke free!

The undercar paste wasn't the only thing holding the car back. As a permanent reminder of its two-decade rest, it left four dents in the asphalt, about two inches deep.

So -- the car was free, but the tow truck was on the wrong side of it. Prewar cars are not noted for their aerodynamics to begin with and loading it onto a flatbed backwards would be asking for trouble on the interstate. Bill pulled the Chrysler a couple yards, then unhooked it and very carefully maneuvered his truck around it and the assorted Tax Analysts company vehicles. Now they were reversed: the wrecker was parked where the Chrysler had been resting a few minutes before.

Bill got the winch out again, and with the wheels turning freely he had little trouble pulling it onto the bed. We tied it down, rolled up the windows, and set off for Midland.

Upon arrival, we immediately set to tackling the new problem. The car had to go into the garage nose-first so that it won't exterminate me when I finally get it running. The car was facing nose- first on the rollback. In other words, exactly opposite of what we needed.

We started by just putting the car on the ground. I got my trusty International Harvester tractor, a 28-year-old classic in its own right, and tried to pull the car up the driveway. Well. As it turned out, the wheels weren't all that free. On my gravel driveway, the IH just couldn't find enough traction to pull the coupe anywhere.

With air in the tires and a change of scenery, she's looking much better already!

Bill turned the truck around and loaded the Chrysler facing the other direction. He backed right up to the garage, as close as he could get with enough room to unload the car, and manipulating the rollback like a precision instrument he carefully set the old car right in front of the driveway. Now the tractor could actually go inside the garage where there would be better traction, and pull it in that way.

Still not enough. Ol' Adja wouldn't budge. The tractor just spun its tires against the concrete.

Bill wasn't out of tricks yet. He used his wrecker's rollback as a giant hand and gently pushed the Chrysler into the garage! With all four of the car's wheels on concrete, my tractor had just enough traction to pull it clear of the door. At last, Adja was home.