As I recall the designation of those Austin Healey were Mark I through Mark IV.
Being that this thread has my name on it and I grew up around autoracing, I'm going to roll out some stuff.
When I was four years old my old man had a Triumph TR3.
I'm standing next to it there in Sierra Madre California circa 1962:
Sure seems like most guys come into this life and leave it without much hair on their heads. I suppose that's why men once wore hats?
But I digress.
I have memories this far back. Note the hood is up; as a consequence pops bought an extra car at this time in my life, ostensibly for my mother's use and I remember the day he brought it home! The first thing I did was waddle straight into the open door of that VW Bug and worm drive between the seats to crawl way up into the parcel stowage area behind the back seats. It was lined with some sort of coarse fabric with a woolen hand and an abrasive texture. Shortly after this I spent an afternoon lying down in that cubbyhole while pops taught moms how to drive in the Rose Bowl parking lot. I slept during most of her driving lesson and sustained a position in the cramped and somewhat abrasive space. As Teutonic blood runs deep in my veins, it's now incumbent upon me to tell you the original VW were Hitler's "people's car".
No pictures of that particular auto, or the Porsche Speedster he owned later, so I'll toss these out:
That might be Reilly, in the crash helmet on the left.
Don't let his name fool you, or mine for that matter ... McClenahan is an adoptive name.
Rodger was a doorstep child so to speak, somehow arriving stateside all by his lonesome as a baby. I suspect by U-boat.
Pops used to say that I looked like Albert Speer, architect to Hitler:
Photoshop a Stetson on that guy and methinks we might have something!
Speer was later Minister of Armaments and War Production for the Third Reich.
Now I drive a BMW: that's Beh-Em-Vay to all you plebes.
Hitler didn't have a Speedster... first year was 55.
My story lists the VW Bug as the People's Car, not the Speedster.
No matter; this brings me to the next step in my crooked evolution. The Triumph was sold by 1963. We were still living in Sierra Madre California off of Laurel St., as depicted up in that picky. So he had this black Speedster, just like the one Eddie Murphy drove in Beverly Hills Cop.
this photograph is just a dramatization
The memory I depicted in the Volkswagen was from two years of age. Next year, at three years old, Rodger and I are tooling around town near the beach. He liked to take me Will Rogers State Beach.
Will Rogers ... are we starting to get the picture here?
So, he's tooling around while I'm lying low in the front of the Porsche all swaddled up in soft baby blue blankets with the seat removed and as he's looking for parking, some greaser is crossing the street with one of those duck butt hair jobs just like Warren Harding wore; I remember the dude too ... It may actually been Warren Harding. So I popped my head up over the low-slung door of that black beauty right into the street and spied this guy jaywalking and he's wearing lineman's boots. "Wow look at those boots!" I blurt out in a rapture of avarice, pining for them black beauties with the buckle down low over the instep and the other up high just showing beneath his cuffed blue jeans.
Rodge, as his friends call him, says to this day the dude turned five shades of red having received the adulation of a three-year-old!
Next adventure in the Porsche, when I was four, was a trip out to the desert. We stopped on the way so I could eat my Lucky Charms out of a translucent square Tupperware. I wasn't digging it so much because the milk was warm and the colored marshmallows were a bit soggy. Bigger problems lay just ahead however: Car Trouble. Luckily there was one of those anachronistic soda shacks nearby with some hicks keeping the patrons entertained by handing out soda pops and selling us tokens for the automated miniature bowling alley. I played with that number for a couple of hours.
I remember the hillbillies had a little kid that was about a year older than me and it was real hot outside in the desert so she was lying face down on the cool linoleum floor with flies buzzing around her ass.
Later in the afternoon the tow truck finally came to snag the Speedster and Rodger hailed a motorcyclist who gave us a ride all the way back to wherever, I don't believe we got all the way home as a threesome on the motorcycle, but I was riding right up on the gas tank while Rodger was on the back of the bike behind the rider. So I guess that was my first motorcycle experience too; I don't member the brand, I fancy that it was and English bike but I remember it had a black gas tank made of hard steel of course. It all starts adding up if you think about it.