On the advice of more than a few people, I didn’t expect to see many Curbside Classics around Baltimore. In fact, one Wednesday afternoon when Bryan and I were sitting on the front porch, sipping Yuengling Black & Tan, he said that his own 1987 LTD Crown Victoria might be as good as it got. Since I do love a challenge…
“Well, there’s an Impala that lives on Beech” was all else Bryan could give me. Since I’d already missed the bus downtown, it was too late to head to D.C. for the evening, so I returned to where I was staying.
Well, I did find an Impala. I posted its picture to his Facebook profile, captioned This Impala?. Well, not exactly: A few weeks earlier, my host, Patrick, had caught a 1965 Impala on the block where I was staying. Still, it amounted to more than the nothing I’d been told to expect.
Waiting at the body shop with the Impala was this glass-encased 1963 Dodge Polara. Sadly, the only free time I had never coincided with the shop being open, so this is as best I could do. Luckily, this wasn’t the only Dodge Brother I captured within a short time frame.
This forlorn 1955 Coronet hovered in that precarious position between being a candidate for restoration or a parts car. It seemed closer to the former, having no serious surface rust and generally not looking like it had been on a jack stand for 25 years–or so I hoped. Before sunset, I managed to get the Lincoln shot at the top, after which I called it a day.
The conference I was attending didn’t allow me time to scope out many other classics, but I was able to catch a few, including this DS21 being driven on Eutaw Street.
During lunch, I was able to catch this oh-so-elegant XJ6 on Federal Hill. Although it was at least 25 years old, this Jaguar looked right at home in its elegant surroundings.
True to form, most of the local GM cars of a certain age are A-body roaches. Still, I couldn’t help but snap a picture of the car that led to Oldsmobile’s decline parked among the urban decay of East Baltimore. I know how much these gutless Cutlass Supremes are beloved around these parts, but I still have as great an appreciation for them as snobby Baltimore natives have for formstone.
Before I pack, I’ll leave you with this pair of fenced-in Plymouths. I keep a little Mopar hope alive for them, as I do the aforementioned Coronet. In the end, Charm City presented me with a cavalcade of classics–and they, along with the best meatloaf I’ve ever had, have me checking my calendar to see when I’ll be able to return.