The Miracle and the Mercedes
by Paul Ruby
I was sitting in a cream '67 Mercedes fiddling with the stick shift.
Mary Beth said, "What does that plaque say?" pointing to the dash.
It was dangling down, the glue had gotten old.
I turned my head sideways to read it. "Mrs. Eliot Porter" , I said. "Yeah right.
What does it really say", Mary said. "I told you, Mrs. Eliot Porter", I said. "Isn't
Eliot Porter a famous photographer? " she replied.
I didn’t know what Mary was talking about. I sat back and looked out the windshield.
In a woman the area of the brain dedicated to driving a stick shift is called the stick
shift spot. Conversely, a man has a region of the brain called "The listening
molecule". I don't know what this means.
I obviously had been using the vintage car region of my brain, not the famous
photographer area at the time. I wasn't catching on. In rapid fire succession the
following thoughts popped into my noggin.
"Oh my God! Do you know whose car this might have been?" (Boinnng), I said to Mary
Beth . "I can't believe it. I'm sitting in Eliot Porter's car. What am I going to do? This is unbelievable!"
As part of my Sunday morning ritual I study the used car classifieds for Ferraris and Lamborghinis
that have accidentally been priced at $5000 by unknowing widows. It can happen, right? I saw
"1967 Mercedes Benz 250SE $4500 853-1789". "Hey, that’s a Bellefonte number ." (that’s where
we live) "This looks interesting. Can we go look at it?", I asked.
I called the number and spoke with a Mr. Steven Porter about the car and its condition. It had spent
most of its life in Santa Fe, New Mexico where his father had lived. It had no rust. I arranged to visit
later in the day. When we arrived, Steven was out but his wife Marcy showed us the car and told us
that the car was purchased in Rome, Italy while her father-in-law was shooting pictures in Greece.
I thought to myself that he must have been a travel photographer or perhaps even a National Geographic
Magazine photographer (ala Bridges of Madison County). Marcy went back to the house because it was
cold.
"I sure looks like it's in good shape. Look, it’s a stick shift. "
"This is a neat car."
"Yes. A four door Mercedes with a stick shift. That’s great. No rust either. "
We told Marcy that we were still interested in the car and that we would like to come back later and
take it for a test ride. It was snowing and Steven Porter had told me on the phone that he didn't drive
the car in the snow and salt.
Driving away, we discussed whether or not I should tell the Porters that we knew all about Eliot
Porter. "It’s a miracle! There is no way we just stumbled across this car by accident. God meant for
us to have this car!," I said.
Mary agreed. It was out of this world. What is the big deal you ask? I will tell you.
After I die the only thing people possibly will remember me for outside of my family and friends
is my photography. I have been a passionate art photographer for 20 years. I have worked very hard
and long in this area. There is nothing I know more about than fine art photography.
Eliot Porter is the father of color landscape photography. No question. He was using color
transparency film 10 years before I was diaper trained.
He exhibited at the major museums and published many books. By gosh there are two
framed Eliot Porter posters in the lobby of the corporation where I work. The posters are
captioned "Eliot Porter, Intimate Landscapes. The Museum of Modern Art. NY".
Photography plays an important part of my life and Eliot Porter is a king.
I was worried that if I told the Porters how excited I was about the fact that Mr.
Porter owned the car that they would increase its cost. Mary told me, "I think you should
tell them, because they would be more likely to want you to have the car. They wouldn't
want to sell it to someone who wouldn't appreciate it." Instead of driving home we headed
to the local book stores to look for pictures of the Cream Mercedes in Eliot Porter's photography
books. The book on Greece was out of print. Steven Porter later told me that
I am not likely to find a picture of the car. It wasn't like him to include photos of friends and
surroundings in his books. I ordered the book from a specialty store and it should arrive soon.
We will see. A picture of both Steven and his mother Aline appear in the book, "The Southwest
by Eliot Porter". He is 10 in the picture and is holding a snake as large as himself.
Marcy and Steven told me it was very important to them that the car was going to
someone that cared about the car's history and was going to take good care of it. They questioned
whether they wanted to sell it at all. Imagine if you will owning you parents car which they
bought new and had driven and loved for 20 years. Now drive it for another 10 years or so. Still
in great shape imagine selling it to a stranger…. Pretty tough. That car was a piece of the Porters.
Then a Mr. Paul Ruby walks in from no where and goes gabezerk over the car. He genuinely
loves cars and is in shock over the history of the car. They decided that it would be okay to let me
have the car. I feel honored.
Do you think this happened by chance? No way Jack.
So now this Leica of motor cars is ours! It sits elegantly in the yard, the Porter plaque gleaming
quietly. The picture isn't quite like one of his landscapes but it looks pretty good to us. If you're
an enthusiast and happen to be passing by you're welcome to stop and look…but please don't touch!