Ride of a Lifetime

My son and I went over to my parents for our weekly dinner together day before yesterday. As we were stepping out of my truck in the driveway of the home I grew up in, my parents’ neighbor, George, roared around the corner in a sparkling blue convertible.

Now I’d heard about this convertible. George, a wildly successful eye surgeon, had a long-standing relationship with a local luxury car dealer. In the past few years we’d seen a parade of fine automobiles roll into his house next door; Maserati, Rolls Royce, Bentley. Cars that stood out even in my parents’ already wealthy neighborhood, where Benzes, Bimmers, and Lexii were the norm. But I had turned my nose up at all of them, until today.

I had heard that George’s Bentley GT Continental was in the shoppe and they’d given him a Ferrari as a loaner. This was it, gaudily rolling up my parents’ hill.

He had obviously spotted my son and me right away. Without hesitation, he skipped the turn into his house and pulled into our driveway, the engine from Maranello howling despite its idle. Equally without hesitation I blurted “I want a ride”, not caring how forward I sounded. I had never ever been in one of these before.

“Of course, Benjie. That’s why I pulled in here!”

And so it happened that I found myself in the passenger seat of the Ferrari California, a 450 hp, retractable hardtop, V8 beauty, with my son sitting in the small backseat behind me. George was resplendent in a loden sport coat, driving mocs, black-framed Ray Ban Aviators, and a Breitling for Bentley watch. The interior was also well appointed in leather, creamy in both color and touch.

The center stack boasted an LCD monitor and no gear lever, given the shift paddles on the steering column. There were cool gauges and switches everywhere, including those on the steering wheel, which reminded one of those found on F1 cars. We roared around the neighborhood, experiencing the motivation of 8 angry cylinders as we charged up to 60 in 6 seconds. He took us to the Waialae Country Club, the site of the recent Sony Open, less than a mile away, just to drive through the porte cochere, so the smart set could catch a glimpse of us.

Not taking his Ray Bans off the road, he exclaimed to me over the engine bellow, “You know, Benjie, they tell me I can buy this very car for $ XXX,000.00. What do you think?” He knew me as a serious car enthusiast. I thought, “Well played Mr. Luxury Car Salesman.” Nevertheless, I strongly encouraged him to make the purchase, especially with “I’d let you drive it but I can’t; it’s a loaner” still ringing in my ears. He considered my response and visibly inched perceptibly closer to Ferrari ownership.

Clearly, George was enjoying his time with this car.

Now George is more family than neighbor and I was thrilled to see him in the context of this little episode. Thrilled. He and his family moved in next door to us 25 years ago, and their son, about 10 years younger than me, went to my prep school and then on to Notre Dame, as I had, and later enrolled in law school. Like their son was to me, George and his wife were better than a decade younger than my parents, and had clearly invested all of their best wishes for their son. Augusto was their pride and joy.

So in 2006 when Augusto passed away unexpectedly, the lives of George and his wife completely fell apart. They’ve spent the past five years trying to put it back together. Given their character, faith, and beliefs, they have most certainly succeeded in the reconstruction. But from the perception that comes from daily next-door interaction, we know that it will always be incomplete.

It was nice to see George play with this car and realistically imagine what it would be like to own what for many is the pinnacle of sports motoring. Whether he follows through with the transaction or not, I liked the idea of George considering the possibility. It was not a mood I had seen him in for years.

At one point during the short drive, George turned to my son in back. He was more engrossed in his Harry Potter book than this ride of a lifetime. “Timmy, is this car wild or tame?” George floored the pedal to punctuate the question. My son, 7 y.o. and not yet past such invidious comparisons, smartly answered “WILD!”

And there we were, two forever OnceWereBachelors, wordlessly appreciating life and what we have and what we have lost.

Desk Divers

I've got a lot of watches, some of them qualified to hit a depth of 1000 meters. Or metres. I've never taken them that deep, by a longshot, but I've never done this either.

Thanks to www.oceanictime.blogspot.com for the video. I don't watch the show, but from what I've seen it's funny.

What I Wore Fifteen Years Ago: the Denim Shirt

Here’s what I’m copping to: what I wore 15 years ago was a comfy blue denim shirt from Land's End. And one from Polo. And one from J. Crew. And Ruff Hewn. Paired with khaki chinos on a Friday, they were everyone’s idea of “business casual”. What is inapparent to all but the Honoluluan readership is that a denim shirt is way too formal for this city, even when the sleeves are rolled up. You see, the Aloha Shirt, is more than acceptable five days a week here, but I was unwilling to accept that until, oh, 14 years ago. I know you don’t believe me but not all Aloha Shirts are of the laughable variety, either. Now I know better.

If one had to temporarily be someone else, one could do far worse than Alain de Cadenet. Despite the fact that, as far as I can see, all he ever wears – other than racing togs – is a denim shirt and pleated chinos, even to this day (14 years after the fall of the style, in my book). There isn’t much said about Mr. de Cadenet on wikipedia and IMDB. I didn’t even know whether he was a bachelor, a OnceABachelor, or a OnceAOnceABachelor until I looked it up (he’s a OnceAOnceA). But it sure looks like it would be fun to be him for a while.

Here’s what I know about him: former Brit race car driver; collector and flier of vintage aircraft (including a WWII Spitfire); father of Amanda de Cadenet (think a 90s UK Paris Hilton); owner of an Omega Speedmaster; wearer of trad racing goggles. His current gig is to appear on various High-Def TV broadcasts to sing the praises of different classic cars, including broadcasts of the Goodwood Revival vintage car races.

His greatest run is as the host of a series on Speed Channel called Victory by Design, in which Mr. de Cadenet spends a whole season sampling all (yes all) the cars from the world’s great racing marques. Ferrari. Porsche. Maserati. Aston Martin. Lotus. Jaguar. Alfa. Ford. These hour long episodes are automotive pornography, really, featuring Mr. de Cadenet at the wheel of priceless collectible sports cars. Above is the money shot for the Jaguar XK120, sashaying around British country B roads, lovingly filmed, engines roaring. Interspersed with his barely-contained enthusiasm for the subject, and a depth of knowledge steeped in history, engineering, and even styling, this is hardly your typical NASCAR documentary about how moonshining and bootlegging gave way to oval tracking. I have the Porsche and Ferrari episodes on DVD and they are wonderful.

So he may be a decade and a half out of style in his denim shirt and Dockers, even when he’s wearing a leather A-2 and goggles, but Mr. de Cadenet’s definitely got a good gig going.

Oh, and his son's name is Bruiser.

Good Sh*t from Hawaii: Bathys Watch Co. 100Fathoms Automatic

I've lived most of my life in Hawaii and, yes it's paradise. I wouldn't live anywhere else, but really, its greatest claims to fame are Don Ho (R.I.P.) and Hawaii Five-O. Hardly illustrious by the standards of polite society but if so moved, I can give polite society such a philodemic bitch-slapping on the merits of both Uncle Don (Tiny Bubbles. 'Nuff said) and H5O (Jack Lord's sharkskin suit, to begin with) it would be ugly. Honestly though, as much as everyone would love to visit the Islands, not everyone truly appreciates all the different amazing things they have to offer.

And so I hereby inaugurate Good Sh*t From Hawaii, beginning with the Little Watch Company That Could, which, as it turns out, comes straight outta Kauai. Bathys is run, almost single-handedly by John Patterson. John, as far as I can tell is nothing if not a fine time manager (no pun intended), who balances scientific endeavors (i.e. his day job) with horological entrepreneurialism, a love of Hawaiian watersports, and an appreciation of vintage automobiles (old Volvos, SLs, and Willys jeeps).

Bathys hit the watch scene only a few years ago as the only watch company from Hawaii to offer Swiss made precision timepieces. The term Swiss Made is jealously protected by, well, the Swiss, to ensure quality and superlative workmanship, so you know you can count on a Bathys. I have one of the original 100 Fathom automatics, actually a 2nd generation Bathys, in stainless steel with a black dial. I bought it on the strength of the Bathys reputation, which grew thanks to the internet, and because of this very evocative photograph (taken from the Bathys Website):

This image, depicting the arm of an eco-adventurer pal of John, spoke to me. It told me the watch was just a bit different but still tasteful, and I just had to have it. As you can see, this watch sits proud of the wrist, a 41mm beautifully brushed silver stainless steel case on a waterproof leather band with contrast stitching, big green numbers and a blood-red sweep second hand. It boasts a slightly curved sapphire crystal that distorts at flat angles (love it or hate it, the former for me) and thunks reassuringly when you tap it with your fingernail. It also has a beautiful chapter ring indexed both in 60 seconds and 24 hours, also in confident red, black, and white. Lastly, the face is marked with one of my favorite words: "Hawaii", and on the case back John has engraved and labeled the main Hawaiian Islands. Here's mine, serial # 6155, on my lanai railing wearing the original leather strap with deployant buckle (enlarge the image, seriously, get a load of the face!):

And here it is, at a waterfall on Kauai, wearing an aftermarket solid-link stainless steel bracelet. John will be coming out with his own bracelet with fitted lugs soon:

And finally, here we are diving on a pod of spinner dolphins on the island of Lanai and sporting a nylon NATO strap:
Because of the absence of a timing bezel, it can't really claim to be a complete dive watch. However, with a 200 meter depth rating, a spirited argument to the contrary can be made. What the watch is, in fact, is a consumate watersports watch that can be surfed, paddled, swum, or worn diving, as I have done many times, without issue. In that way, it is as Hawaiian as can be. Unlike a pure diver, however, it is stylish enough to be worn to court in a suit, as I have done probably weekly. In that way, it is as OnceWereBachelorean as can be.

In a short span, Kauai resident John Patterson, a man after my own soul (and therefore yours too) has taken his little watch company from internet pipsqueak to cult favorite, a three-time (and counting) invitee to the illustrious Basel Watch Fair in, where else, Switzerland. John has expanded his line of watches to include the classic 100F (my favorite), a variety of imposing dive watches called Benthics, to their newest line of lunar phase ladies watches called Wahine (Hawaiian for, well, woman). Alas, Bathys have made the jump from internet sales only to brick and mortar retail at stores on the East Coast and London, but it's still the same great watch, with the same great customer service and approachability.

So the uninitiated may think that Hawaii is all kitsch and tack, but really if you look hard, you can find a lot of Good Shi*t From Hawaii, starting with Bathys.

For more info on Bathys, go to John's website, bathyswatch.com. Do yourself a favor and let the intro play so you can hear a great cover of Bob Marley's "Jammin'" on ukulele. Make sure to turn it up.

John, I hope you don't mind me borrowing pictures off your website. This is, after all, an unsolicited and unpaid-for testimonial for I am no shill. However, if you want me to remove them, let me know and I would be happy to do so immediately.

OnceWereBachelors Careers: International Airline Pilot

When you're a bachelor airline pilot flying international routes, you've literally got the whole planet stretched out before you. Possibilities are endless. Your life is a William Holden movie unfolding. You leave home, go someplace exotic, mingle, and return refreshed. When you get married and have children, as my father eventually did, not much really changes except now you miss home, you return to your wife, and you make sure you've got toys in your flight bag for the kids to rifle through in your den.

Before I was in preschool, my father flew routes between Manila, Honolulu, San Francisco, New York, and London for Philippine Airlines. Back in the late Sixties at PAL, that meant Douglas DC-8s. Flying to the States enabled my father to keep his hot American cars, as well as those of his race-car-driver pals, excellently equipped with Goodyear tires he had loaded in the cargo holds of his planes. Corvettes. T-Birds. Mustangs. PAL would send him to flight training with KLM in Amsterdam. That's where he acquired his French aviator sunglasses, Harris tweeds, pegged pants, and Florsheim shoes. The gold Rolex Day-Date Oyster Perpetual he also acquired while travelling, I believe in Hong Kong.

For the PAL pilots back then, Hawaii was a significant touchstone, a waypoint in more ways than navigation. Investments were made here. Real estate. Life insurance policies. Friendships. And of course it was so very much like Manila. So when airline management got chintzy with the pilots, and a strike they organized collapsed because of scabs who crossed the line, my father resigned from PAL, packed up his whole OnceWereBachelor life, and moved us all to Honolulu. He traded the large Metro Manila home with the den and bar and the maids and houseboy for a small cottage on hospital grounds where my mother became a resident physician, a profession she barely needed to practice while dad flew the endless skies.

My father considered a few options, the least promising of which was American International Airline Pilot. Something about quotas for non-American-trained flyers, despite the fact that KLM training was top of the industry back then. Next least promising was bartender. My father has never been very talkative or hospitable and smoky places make him irritable. Eventually, he settled on life insurance, which he turned into a nearly thirty-year second career. He barely looked back during those three decades. Once I asked him if he regretted ever leaving PAL. Without hesitation he scoffed at the thought and pointed out that if he hadn't he doubted he would have a lawyer son or a surgeon daughter. I tend to agree. Privileged Manila Kid is a dicey upbringing to have, but I digress.

Selling life insurance sure wasn't the same as world travel, hands at the controls, thousands of pounds of thrust at your command. So it is not lost on me that this was one of many, many sacrifices that my father made for the better of our family. In this day and age, where I myself espouse quality of life, insisting that I couldn't work at a job I was unhappy doing, my father's sacrifice is even more remarkable.

This is barely the story of my father, really. I mentioned the maids and houseboy? In this new, non-airline pilot life, dad did most of the feeding and cleaning and grocery shopping and bill paying, while mom built her medical practice. He drove us to and from school. And he sold life insurance with great success.

Dad's in his early seventies now, and thanks to grandchildren, I truly believe he's getting younger and younger. He hasn't worked in years. When they can pry themselves away from our kids my parents travel often, mostly to Madrid and Manila, anywhere we have family. But for the sake of my dad, even though he retired from Equitable Life, I like to think of him as a former airline pilot and I always will.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. There will never be enough of them in my lifetime and yours together for me to be able to express my love and gratitude to you.

Top: My dad in the right seat of a DC-8 cockpit.
Bottom: My dad and his red 1955 T-Bird.

Abre Los Ojos (Open Your Eyes)

Cameron Crowe is one of the more deserving of media darlings. I'll spare you the backstory, just watch the autobiographical Almost Famous. His movies are always more satisfying than the five movies that I watch before or after. Each one is special, even the smash hit from whence he got the money, Jerry Maguire. His other Tom Cruise movie, Vanilla Sky, offers one of the great opening eight minutes in recent memory. Keep in mind that Crowe intended this movie to be one non-stop pop culture allusion from beginning to end.

This is just a cursory list of things Crowe has crammed into the first eight minutes that make it both great and OnceWereBachelorean:

1. New York City from a God's eye view;
2. Central Park;
3. The Dakota;
4. Bachelor Pad;
5. Penelope Cruise's voice in her native tongue;
6. Audrey Hepburn, from Sabrina (and therefore a hint of Humphrey Bogart);
7. Disappearing plasma screen;
8. Mahogany wainscoting;
9. A Bout de Souffle poster;
10. IWC Schaffhausen Spitfire Mk XV pilot watch on leather with deployant buckle;
11. Smashed Gibson SG under glass (could be Pete Townshend's);
12. Ferrari 250 Granturismo Omologato;
13. Times Square, completely empty (I say again: Times Square, completely empty);
14. The mother of all anxiety attacks, amidst the most amazing billboards west of Tokyo (there's a panoply of relevant images that flash at this point, but I'm not going to try);
15. Repeat;
16. Cameron Diaz under the covers;
17. 1967 Ford Mustang 390GT (trust me, I can tell from the V8 burble);
18. R.E.M.; and
19. Cameron Diaz dancing to R.E.M. in leather pants.

It doesn't stop at minute eight, and the whole movie is worth multiple viewings. Just ignore the critics and the box office. And ignore that Tom Cruise is in it.

A Few Minutes of Your Time: TAG Heuer Museum

If you don't have the time or money to get to La Chaux de Fonds, in Switzerland, in the next few minutes, click this link to the TAG Heuer Virtual Museum. It's pretty neat, although not intuitively navigable. There are arrows to click and windows to select and a 360 degree virtual view of the museum, which is laid out like, what else, a watch. If you can find the buttons for the windows, they're worth viewing, because they lay out the TAG Heuer history through landmark timepieces, which you can view with a virtual magnifier.

Delete this blog from your bookmarks if I use the word "virtual" again in this post.

Highlights of the tour, for me, are the chronographs closely associated with motor racing. McQueen wore a Monaco at the wheel of the Gulf Porsche 917 in the film Le Mans. The Autavia is said to be modeled after the side-by-side specialty clocks installed in cross-country rally cars. Both feature the tasteful twin-subdial layout that is so key to imparting that vintage vibe I dig so much.

Daytona

DAYTONA:


The Rolex Cosmograph Daytona, worn by race car driver and actor Paul Newman, and generally considered one of the classic chronographs of the horological world.

DAYTONA:



The Ferrari 365GTB/4 "Daytona" V12 coupe, named to commemorate Ferrari's 1-2-3 finish at the 1967 24 Hours of Daytona race. Brock Yates and Dan Gurney clocked the then-fastest New York to Los Angeles time in one in the original Cannonball Run.

DAYTONA!:



The Shelby Daytona Coupe designed by Carroll Shelby and Peter Brock campaigned to many victories in endurance racing. Six chassis were built, this one disappearing from view after 1971 only to turn up in a California storage "barn" (they're all "barns" in automotive stories like this) 30 years later. It belonged to known Southern Cal weirdo Phil Spector.


nb: please excuse the Jay Leno.

A Few Minutes of Your Time: Porsche Design Indicator chronograph

Take a few minutes of your time to watch the video of the Porsche Design Indicator chronograph, reputedly the most sophisticated production wristwatch ever made. That remains to be seen, but it has a unique stopwatch function, a graphic power reserve (to tell you when it needs winding), and some kind of rewind feature. Oh, and it's made of titanium. List price is in the six-figures, but that's almost certainly a marketing ploy, and I expect you can drive one of these babies off the showroom floor for less than twenty large. If I could I would. The video gives you an idea of why it's worth that much. The exploded view assembly is truly incredible.

As a corollary to our OnceWereBachelors motto, if I have to explain it to you, you wouldn't understand.

Vintage Seiko Bullhead Chronograph

I like watches. I currently have about a dozen of them. One of my favorites is my brown Seiko 6138-0040 automatic chronograph. As you can see, its winding crown is at the 12 o'clock position, with the stopwatch pushers on either side, reminding one of a bull's horns. It is also asymmetrical, with it's case tapering in thickness from top to bottom. It is meant to be a driving watch, and this taper allows for easier viewing of the dial while your hands are on a steering wheel or shifter. At the time of its release, its chronograph movement, which was developed in house by Seiko, was state of the art. Today it still holds up extraordinarily well. I'm not certain but I believe this model, and its black-dialed sister, were available between the late sixties and mid seventies. It definitely has a vintage vibe, and I love wearing it, of course when I drive the Mid-Life Crisis.

I'm not particularly proud of my fascination with watches. It is quite frivolous, and despite my rationalizations that these automatic, self-winding timepieces are little works of engineering art on my wrist, I realize they're just jewelry. I have a box of jewelry.

Let me repeat for purposes of self-awareness: "I have a box of jewelry".

Hmm, that's not so easy to admit out loud.

*Top photograph was taken from this website. If this is your picture and I am violating your copyright by posting it here, please notify me and I will immediately remove it.