One thing I have missed during the regular wearing of a face mask outside of my home is the ability to smile at people. So much can be said in a split-second of nonverbal communication. I’ve been told that my facial expressions give me away almost instantaneously, which is something I’ve become more aware of with my increased use of video calls. At least with my lack of a good poker face, others will usually know that what they see is what they get. I’m a lot of things, but I will never be confused for a good actor. Even during activities like grocery shopping, when I accidentally come face-to-face with another shopper, I’m used to being able to make eye contact, smile, and nod in acknowledgement of that other person’s existence and also that I come in peace, all in a matter of one mere blip of a moment.
I have not, nor may I ever, master the Tyra Banks method of “smiling with my eyes” (or “smizing”), though a year’s worth of wearing a face mask in public has given me plenty of practice time. I often hope that other people at whom I’m smiling can see the wrinkle lines at the corners of my eyes and interpret that cue as something positive that I’m directing at them. I am scheduled to get my second COVID vaccine this afternoon, the Pfizer, so I will be glad to be pfinished with that process, with the prospect of mask-free days hopefully on the horizon for later this year.
When I saw our featured car in my neighborhood almost five years ago, my immediate thought (and the voice in my head may have said these actual words) was that people are nice. This friendly couple at the stoplight across the intersection from me gladly confirmed the model year of their Triumph TR6 as a ’75, and they seemed to be having a ball enjoying a little fresh-air motoring along North Sheridan Road in the cool breezes of nearby Lake Michigan. I want to like people. I want people to like me. I want to resume being able to exchange a smile with a complete stranger, casually, if for only a second, as acknowledgement that we all belong here. We all belong.
Over the past five years or so since I snapped these pictures, it feels like many newsworthy events have transpired that, at times, have frankly made me feel uncomfortable with looking others in the eye. To be clear, I do not question my own worth, but when bad things happen that don’t make sense to me, it’s a much scarier prospect to realize that I can’t always rely on the ability of rational thought and/or intelligence, emotional or otherwise, of other people. The passenger of this car not only smiled at me, but she also waved. Maybe she appreciated that I appreciated their car and that she and her companion appeared to be enjoying themselves. To me, communication of positive intent is a triumph in and of itself, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Smile at people. It makes it that much harder to arbitrarily disrespect them.
I have often read opinions that the TR6, produced from between 1969 and July of 1976, is considered by many Triumph purists to be the last, “true” TR. The TR7 that arrived for model year ’75 did differ from its direct predecessor in significant ways. While the U.S.-market TR6 roadster was powered by a 104-hp six-cylinder engine displacing 2.5 liters, the closed-roof TR7 featured a 2.0L four-cylinder with only 86 horses, though the 2,200 pound starting weight of an early TR7 was about 200 lbs. less than its stablemate. The TR6 also had an all-independent suspension and body-on-frame construction, both of which the TR7 lacked. And then, there was the styling, which is purely subjective. I’ll defend the TR7’s looks by saying it looks just fine to me, and even better in convertible form, which arrived for ’79. Over 94,600 TR6s found buyers over its abbreviated eight years of total production. By contrast, the TR7 sold 113,400 units over seven years. The numbers, by themselves, would betray the TR7’s perceived lack of popularity.
As far as family lineage and nomenclature goes, would the TR7 have been a more popular car with enthusiasts in its own right if British Leyland had called it something other than a TR? I honestly don’t know. I think fresh thinking and the shaking of the proverbial Etch-A-Sketch is important, across many scenarios and applications. As a metaphor for my own life, I’m a Dennis and my father’s son for sure, but even standing next to each other, few strangers who didn’t know us might have assumed we were even related, with our completely different heights, builds, complexions, and with many different features. The TR6 was styled in Italy; its successor was styled by Harris Mann in England. I may not have my father’s educational pedigree, natural ease with people, or prowess on the soccer field, but I have many of his admirable qualities and feel no less worthy of the Dennis name. I’m great at many things my Dad couldn’t do, which coincidentally, I always felt he appreciated. The TR7 gets a free pass from me.
I have always felt invested in projecting and protecting positive energy in the random sort of interactions with others as happened at this intersection during that summer afternoon in 2016. It’s a small victory, but an important one, I feel, when you can convey a simple greeting to someone in an elevator or in the check-out line at the local drug store. News of many injustices and really sad, unbelievable events has caused a certain level of fatigue, on both individual and collective levels, over the past few years. At the same time, I want to continue to celebrate the kind of unannounced good that continues to occur every day, as easily and breezily as a few kind words exchanged with someone who may not know anything about me except for the way I look to them. To me, that’s a very significant kind of triumph.
Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois.
Sunday, July 24, 2016.
People driving old classics smile and wave especially at eachother make model value and rarity mean nothing it seems, a guy coming towards me today waved out he in his 68 Mustang at me in my 66 Superminx estate of course I waved back its what you do,
I do like TR6s the straight six powertrain from the Triumph sedan worked well in a smaller lighter body and they look the part something the TR7 failed miserably at, real British sports car.
My biggest issue with the TR7 is that is tries to write a check (cheque?) that it can’t cash. The TR6 looks like an honest British sports car, and pretty much delivers what’s on the tin.
The appearance of the TR7 promises something far more exotic, with its vaguely Lotus-like wedge shape and pop up headlights. But alas, underneath it is still a plain old British sports car.
This is one of the many things the OG Miata got right. It doesn’t try to look exotic, nor should it because it is not.
Thanks for making me smile this morning, Joseph. Right back at you!
To teenage me, the TR6 was sexy, but the TR7 didn’t quite have the same je ne sais quoi, although I would have liked to have one anyway. It can be confusing, being a horny teen and a car nut.
Being an old car owner leads to so many memorable interactions, both verbal and nonverbal. Congratulations on the second shot, and maybe we’ll all be smiling at each other and even swapping stories soon.
Joseph Dennis Great write up, as usual. I’ve always loved the TR6. Regarding the second part, here’s an excerpt from a speech given by President Kennedy on June 10, 1963 at the American University.
So, let us not be blind to our differences–but let us also direct attention to our common interests and to the means by which those differences can be resolved. And if we cannot end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. For, in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.
I love this quote – thank you for posting it.
A nice car and better that some here are looking at the bigger picture in life .
I’m a big inline 6 banger fan and always have been .
Oddly I have never driven one of these in spite of a friend owning one for a time .
-Nate
The TR7 (in coupe form) was a bit like a car with a mask on: the shape was visible, but it seemed to be lacking the little details that the older TRs were so well endowed with.
I’m very happy to be seeing people without masks on again.
In case you can’t see, I am smiling as I type this. TR6s make me smile (as do these regular musings from the younger Mr. Dennis).
I will confess to being one of the people let down by the TR-7. I am of the age where the 6 was comforting. It looked like a British sports car was supposed to look, even in the 70s. The little British flag decal on the flank looked right. The 7 could have come from anywhere. It could have been a Fiat, a Mazda or a German Ford and the effect would have been the same. It just didn’t move me the way the old TR6 did.
Nice! Love the 16″ Panasports on this one. They suit it well. Even the standard 15″ deep dish steelies look large – these “big” British sportscars are actually exceedingly small!
My first thought was the wheels are too big!
15s and no 5mph bumpers would be a big improvement in my eyes.
In the TR7 defence it was designed as a car for the seventies with out the TR 6 British upright driving position with the steering wheel against the drivers chest and cramped narrow body. The 7 had a more conventional sedan like feel to the driving experience and a wider hence more comfortable Pending federal rules were to ban convertibles, so every body fought so that car was hard top coupe only. The Targa top was left to Porsche and Fait. The nice looking TR7 Convertible reached the shores in 1980… The wedge look was the way forward in 1975 ,Google “Austin Princess. ” The Shape of Things to Come” . Great car if not for crappy build quality from a disgruntled work force led by penny pinching management and an engine that couldn’t hold it’s head gasket together. Such a shame. So near yet so far……..
.away.
Would the TR7 have done better without the TR name and history but with a new name?
I’m not sure – maybe yes, but it would still have been saddled with the polarising styling, fixed roof, rubbish quality, poor performance from a desmogged saloon engine and the £/$ rate issues.
Maybe if the first car had been the convertible variant with another name, it would have fared better but I suspect the final answer would have been the same
Or maybe if they’d started with the planned 2+2 Lynx fastback, then spun off the TR7 convertible from that as a SWB variant, thus enhancing its sporting credentials. And given it the 16-valve Sprint engine right from the start instead of the basic sedan plodder.
Triumph used to know how to make proper sports cars, but under Leyland management it seemed like they weren’t allowed to.
Red car with Panasports looks fantastic, would like that in my garage. Wonder if it’s one of those rare V6 2.5 cars? TR7 was nothing like the predessor, produced when UK was in industrial turmoil, reknowned for bad build and unreliability issues.
Totally a straight-six – my fault! I’ll fix it. Thank you.
Another great, deftly written piece Joseph.
As someone who hears a lot of… eccentric comments at work and lives within sight of the state capitol of Minnesota, it resonated with me – and it’s one of my dream cars. (stock wheels, blue paint please Santa)
I think the TR6 is my favorite ’60s British sports car. Growing up, a neighbor down the street had a navy blue one, equipped with whitewall tires (ugh), along with an older Saab 96. As I remember it, he was often outside in the early morning, with the hood of one or both cars up, trying to coax them to start in cold, wet weather.
Masks have proven a double-edge sword, protecting our health, but making it so difficult to communicate with minute facial expression changes. My 91 year old father, now in an advanced stage of dementia, is having a really difficult time communicating, between being hard of hearing and unable to read (or even recognize) faces. For that reason, this essay really hits home for me.
Smiling at the great write-up. Thanks for that.
I have a vivid memory of the first TR7 I saw in the wild. I was 12 or 13, so ’75 or ’76, and it went by the driveway of my junior high school on Route 202 a ways west of Philly. As the car guy in my group I knew just what it was. “The shape of things to come!” I liked it!
Thanks, everyone – glad you enjoyed this one. I’m still mining my archives and coming up with pictures of cars that I took years ago, so we’ll see what else turns up.
During the lockdown, I have been listening to a LOT of recorded books. One writer I have discovered is Julie Mulhern, and her series of Country Club Murders. The setting is suburban Kansas City in the 1970s. The stories include many details from that era. Our heroine drives a TR6 with an automatic transmission. I thought the automatic might be artistic license, but it appears to have been available.
I’ve owned my ’73 TR6 since Summer of 1991, before my son (who turns 29 next month) was born. Panasports are nice,but the original (Dunlop?) Steelies really do suit it. I had a ’69 in BRG 30 years ago and can tell you that you wouldn’t want to have to rely on it to be your daily driver. As C/D said 50 years ago, it rides hard and smells of oil. But that’s the charm. And there’s nothing better than driving it on a sunny day with thetop down, enjoying all the sights, sound, and smells, hearing the nice smooth drone of that straight six, and letting off the gas under the overpass to hear the exhaust on overrun. And at only 2400 lbs soaking wet, the six pulls very nicely, indeed!
The TR7? Not so much…
Reading yesterday’s articles today, as usual. Nice write up on a very happy looking scene. It’s almost impossible to drive a convertible with the top down and not be happy (assuming it’s not a broken top in the rain or some such scenario!). And the joy of a convertible on a nice day is one of those very few things all people everywhere can appreciate: a universal joiner.
You put your finger on one of the most frustrating things, not being able to see faces or have one’s own be seen. Don’t get me started on masks! I too am looking forward to a mask-free society, hopefully.
Joseph, your write up is exactly how I feel about living here. There’s nothing better than going out for a nice walk and actually having your fellow humans acknowledge you. We’re lucky to be in neighborhoods where that is a thing.
Chris ;
That has a lot to do with you ~ I live in what is generously called a sketchy neighborhood and I make a point of greeting my neighbors and telling the obvious non good ones they’re being watched .
More of my neighbors know me than I them as they know I keep an eye out and have chased out druggies etc…
-Nate