Photoblog: Gedee Car Museum - Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Wheels

Whenever I'm bored with the trappings of modern day monotony, I head out to visit the wizened old man on top of the hill. We've been friends a long time now, but he never tells me his name or how many decades he's seen go by. He's always keen to help me in exchange for a flask of ginger tea though, and while I've been sworn to secrecy, I'll just let you in on his special trunk, which, when unlocked, initiates contact with A. Lianne, one of those peeps you see hovering in the night sky.

I was a lucky soul picked as being worthy of  experimentation with time travel and teleportation to help get the word out that they're around. I'm not complaining though, they've sent me to several interesting places, including races and drives around the world I wouldn't have a hope of being invited to by those in power, er, relations, like Hillclimb St. Ursanne Les Rangiers I took part in last year. This time though, things were to be a little different...

I was on my way out to the spot as usual, to see if I could wing the keys to a Caterham R500 for a couple of hours on Brands Hatch. The high-pitched voice of Captain Marsh Ian crackled through the radio in the old man's hut, instructing him to reset to an address on Avinashi Road in Coimbatore. "And why would I go there?", I asked sullenly. But he was adamant, and told me some important cars needed to have a word with me there. Tap, tap, tap? I finally gave in though.

The old man fiddled with the trunk, and before I knew it, I was travelling through space and time...

...and ended up in a big, white hall in front of something rather unusual, a working replica of the Benz Motorwagen, from way back when in 1886. "I made it all the way from Coimbatore to Chennai recently, with no breakdowns," he said proudly. "That's brilliant," I muttered hurriedly, and the fair lady on the three-wheeler waved a hello as well. So the Motorwagen speaks. I gathered my wits about me, and hesitantly decided to see if the other exhibits were going to freak me out as well.

The old timer stopped me as I moved on, "Hold it right there, son." "Aren't youngsters these days interested in anything but a photograph?" I had no answer and a stupid face, and he continued, "That's a 954cc, single-cylinder, four-stroke gasoline engine that has been tested all the way up to 400 rpm with 0.9hp. The big horizontal wheel, thats the flywheel." "That's incredible, it truly is." I said quietly. "Thanks for listening, you carry on now." 

I continued down into the hall and came across a Ford Quadricycle, the first vehicle Henry Ford developed. "Hello, young man, you think you'd have the guts to pilot me at 30 km/h on a sorry excuse for a road?" Okay, so they've all got something to say then, might as well make the most of it now. "Not sure, your brakes don't seem to worry you,, but  I'm used to ventilated discs." "Ha!", he exclaimed, "Henry took me up to 32 clicks on June 4th, 1896. Remember it like it was yesterday!" 

"Wow. You must've got some story!" "That I do", he said proudly, gleaming in the special lighting. "Mr. Naidu actually worked as a waiter to save up enough to purchase me from the British. He learned how to assemble motorcycles because of my bits and pieces." 

"I may be a modern day novelty, but I was the world's first mass produced car, and used to be pretty much everyone's cup of T." "The roadster to be," I added, thinking very highly of my attention to detail, post reading the plaque. "Tin Lizzie may be butt of several motoring jokes, but get wise, buddy, I was the best selling automobile in the USA for the better part of a quarter of a century."

"A Morris 8, seriously?", I murmured. "No, Series E, four eyes , he growled."With the waterfall grille and top click of  almost 100 km/h. Oh and my engine's been used as an auxillary power unit in a few tanks. Got anything to say?"  "Not much, just that I'll now take you Series E, sorry, seriously."

"Don't worry about him, he's messing with you because he's just 8 and was nodding off into his siesta", said the instantly recognizable fella alongside. "He should be so lucky actually, at least he gets to have a drink occasionally. I've been a minor all my life despite being in production for almost 25 years, and still don't get to check out local nightlife. I'm old now, but if I could live on, I'm planning a new age classically inspired song that will go viral on social, '803cc In A Minor'." "Might actually work", I said and smiled, because now I was realizing why this Morris was the first British car to see more than a million examples produced. They're happy wheels.

My ignorance about classic cars was not bliss, as I walked on towards this beauty, without a clue of what company it represented. Good thing then, that the museum had descriptions of each model. "You must have at least heard of the Dodge Brothers", he said, obviously noticing my cluelessness. "Indeed I have, though minus the 'Brothers' nomenclature. The Challenger and Ram immediately come to mind." "Ah, but my 3.4-litre, 58 hp engine has seen younger times, all the way back to 1929, when the air was clean and sex was dirty." "That's awesome," was the smartest thing I could respond with, "I really dig the wooden spokes on your wheels."

A gruff voice from the next display said, "Many cars are old here, but I'm the only Oldsmobile from way back when in 1948." "No doubt your sixtieth birthday would have been a blast." "Eh? Oh, a smart ass. Most definitely, it was fit for a Dynamic 60. The punch got my hundred horses in trouble with their neigh boors, such was the ruckus." "Damn, that's my kinda scene, will invite myself to your 75th bash then."

Wow, this has got to be the most beautiful car on display, I mused. The Rolls Royce didn't say anything, but didn't have to, because its regal presence and stunning lines oozed charisma like no other vehicle could in the large hall. The Silver Ghost from the 1920s won my gold without any hesitation. 

There was this surprise waiting for me around the corner, a pristine example of the popular Citroen 2CV. "I know what you're thinking, the lights make me look better." "They help", I replied truthfully, recalling all the times this car has been made fun of, including being a guinea pig in that famous Top Gear episode, where it 'tested' the power of a jet engine exhaust. "But there's a lot to you I really respect," I said, after reading through the accompanying description. "Like your production run of over 40 years, spanning 7 million examples. I'll be honest, I heard you roll more than Wiz Khalifa, but meeting your design brief of being able to transport a crate of eggs without any breakage over a ploughed field is something the world will never forget." 

This guy was definitely more than 500 miles away from home, but looked hale and hearty with stunning, flawless body lines. "Not-a-staying to chateh?" "I promise to, next time I visit," I said as politely as I could, "But I've been waiting all my life to see the guy sitting next to you, so do understand." "But of courseh, you carry on, just remember that I'm an actual Italian Job." "That I will, of course, thanks for letting me take your picture, I'll get the word out that you're here."

While the classic Rolls was my pick for the most beautiful car in the museum, there was no doubt in my head as to which the most special one was. There the MINI Cooper was, exuding all its tiny-bodied charisma. Michael Caine's classic"You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off" immediately came back like it was yesterday, and the old car grinned through its chrome grille. "Ah, you're oldschool". "The only school if you ask me", I responded. "Sorry I'm drooling, but you're possibly my biggest, or rather, smallest dream car."

"Ha! No worries buddy, even glamour girls have fallen flat for my charm." "Ah, Minnie. Was she a good Driver, as was Winnie in a Cooper during her Wonder Years. They set the tone for more than bad jokes, I still dream about those rides." Cheeky little bugger, I thought to myself, but I knew he was more car than several small autos even today. "One day I will take one of your brothers out for a long mountain drive to experience your Monte Carlo Rally magic all those years ago." "Add some whiskey into the old man's ginger tea, and he just might allow you to!"

Looking far from Austintatious in the corner was this rarity, a fellow Countryman to the Cooper. I asked him if he missed his wooden inserts, to which he replied, "Nah mate, they were just for show and didn't do anything to help body rigidity. Who wants to look like an American woodie anyway?" "You're looking swell as is, old chap," I said, "Long may you run."

The Silver Spirit was obviously alive in this golden Rolls, because his airs were deserving of royalty. "Your shadow's ruining my spotlight", he roared, and I quickly made tracks. Sheesh, some folk will always be high on mighty hood ornaments and upmarket cowhide, but hey, he was pretty and he knew it. 

That's the biggest Caddy I've ever seen in my life, I thought excitedly, and just about managed to squeeze its entirety into my little point-and-shoot's frame. "You may remember me from media appearances with the President Of The United States Of America." "Peaches and Lump, of course, they were classics!" "Heard you can talk bull. Pull yourself together, man." Better defend myself , I thought hurriedly , but the smartest thing that came to me was, "You've got to be the longest car I've seen in my life!" I know, I walked right into his response. "Presidents are big people."

I had made enough of a fool of myself with the president's ride, so I moved on down the hall, and came across this Mazda, a sports car people seem to either RX hate or love. I've loved it from the moment I landed a drive on Gran Turismo - there was something really sexy about a screaming rotary engine blasting down the main straight at Suzuka. "I've watched you race before, your drive wasn't too bad, but you need to keep the revs up more with our Wankels, and you'll do much better", kindly advised the handsome fella from Japan, and allowed himself a tiny smile for the camera. 

   

"We all need a roof over our heads", said the enclosed scooter philosophically when he saw me staring. "I was manufactured by Bertone for BMW way back in 2000, and was revolutionary for the time, because I provided similar frontal crash safety to a small compact car." "How did you manage that?" "Well, a four point seatbelt and a crumple zone over the front wheel were the major reasons." "That's amazing", I said, "But how come I've never seen you anywhere before?" "That's because sales didn't hit the roof, son."

"Don't look at me like that, I actually have a strong enthusiast community in Europe, and am still very much in production," Mr. CityEl said proudly. I may have been a little forthcoming,"Whoa! I'd be crapping bricks driving you around those parts." "You only  have to be a little careful with crosswinds, otherwise it's a very unique EV ride. My roof hinges upwards to give you and your kid seating, with a range of around 70 kays, though some of my die hard followers have managed to up that range to 120 clicks with battery modifications." "Might give you a test drive when I visit Europe in the future then, though I'd opt for a stereo and pump Eddy Grant's Electric Avenue outside all the nightclubs. In the cityeeeh, yaknowhaimsayin?" "Er, yeah okay, whatever floats your boat."

So much for first impressions, I thought to myself, as I walked towards the motorsport section. This guy obviously noticed the goosebumps and the drool on the floor, and asked, "Have you ever driven a racecar, my young friend?" "Not yet," I replied, "But it's certainly on the cards when someone gives me a chance. You sir, are a bloody stunner." "I know right? You should hear me speak through the freeflow though. Ha! You probably won't..." Just then, I heard the old man on the hill's voice telling me to wind things up, because he wanted to turn in for the night. "Okay, okay, sure, just give me ten and I'll call."

Oh wow, was all I could say, imagining what this baby would've sounded like on the circuit. "Rather great, if I may say so myself," said the man in blue, reading my mind. "Glad to meet you, boy, have you seen me before? I was built by the famous B. Vijayakumar." "Don't think so," I replied, again feeling bad about my ignorance. He must've noticed my embarrassment, because he said, "I'm a Formula Rolon racer, and have burned up Indian circuits before I came here to retire." "Doesn't it bore you here?" "Nah, young fella, everyone hangs up their boots some time, and it's good to share your testimony and inspire the next racing generation."

I had only five minutes to leave, so I hurriedly moved over to this red beast for a picture. "Don't just take pictures, try reading up too, kid!" "I'm sorry, I have to get back home quick, it's hard to explain", I said to him in a whisper. "You're Santosh, that guy in Kodi who came down to have a chat with all of us here. But I understand why you have to leave. Anyway, I'm a Formula Ford, assembled in India by MRF Tyres. Visit the track some time on your next visit, and you might just get lucky and catch a glimpse of me in action." "How did you know about me?", I inquired, quite surprised. "Well, you have a loud voice..." "Oh, pardon me, I tend to let excitement get the better of the vocal cords." "Not at all, young man, you do what you have to, I hope to run into you again."

There was just enough time to run up to this beauty for a quick word. "Herbie!!!", I exclaimed excitedly. "That's me!", he beamed. "I watched all your movies as a kid, will definitely do a rerun through your flicks now. "Go bananas then!", he said, rather aptly, seeing as how he was a movie star and my rather ape-like behaviour in my excitement." "Could I get your autograph?" "Of course," but just as he opened his bonnet to pull out a pen...

...I found myself dissolving into the air, and ended back up on the hill. I pinched myself just to be sure, but there was no old man, no trunk, and no ginger tea.

The sun was rising, and it was just my Alto and I again. I decided to go back home and pen this amazing experience down, what with conversations with cars and what not. I had travelled to a dream garage, and it was a garage dream the whole time. But I was sure glad to feel almost part of the great man GD Naidu's legacy, and drove back home fully inspired to get cracking on my own dreams and ambitions. 

Afterword

My uncle Sunil is one of those rare souls with a quiet, yet deep passion for the automotive world. So it was only fitting he introduced us to this basement gem on Coimbatore's most well-known road, because the classy GD Naidu Car Museum is a must-visit for anyone driven by internal combustion, given the quality, choice, and attention to detail, of both exhibit and exhibition. One can see the effort put into the small but important things, like relevant descriptions, photo friendly lighting, and non-overcrowding of the cars, for the most part at least. I was able to visit only briefly, but hope this little taste of the museum will persuade you to brave downtown traffic and check it out for yourself. Because it's always the right place when auto is motto.