July 17, 2025: Currently, our 1939 Cadillac V-16 limo is 18 hours from disembarking from the Vivienne Sheri D, a container ship bound for Reykjavik, Iceland.

Briefly, the plan is to begin with a drive across Iceland August 5th. Then we ferry to Denmark, drive to Austria to attend BIG MEET, then onto Germany for the CLC Grand European in Munich. Later we’ll visit Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal. The trip will take three months. We fly home on Halloween. Besides the Cadillac events the trip includes touring the Danube on bicycle, participating in the Lisbon Marathon, and loads more.

I Only Have Myself to Blame

The Basic Idea

What possesses someone to ship an 86-year-old car across the Atlantic and drive nearly the entire length of the continent–north to south? Honestly, it was just a crazy idea. I did try to back out. I told my family and fellow CLC members about the idea, but they were unanimously positive. Go for it, they said. Can I get a reality check? However, this is not the first American car to be put into service in another continent. In fact, similar odysseys have been undertaken. You may know of Australian Ken Moss’ trek across the USA in the 1960s. Ken and his family drove their 1912 Cadillac from San Francisco to New York stopping in Detroit to visit Cadillac management.

The Players

Of course, there is Guy himself, an 86-year-old veteran of the road: A formal limousine with a mysterious, mostly unknown history. Don’t ask him about his past, he’s much too discreet. He’s all business. Twist the key, and let’s get on our way. He’s dependable, spacious, comfortable, and—just ask him—always right. Don’t try to face him down on a narrow lane. He won’t yield.

Tom has been at Guy’s helm, and under the hood, for 25 years. Just as bossy and practical as his black car, they’ve established a bond that goes beyond owner/auto. Tom understands the needs of maintenance and repair. He attends to the fluids, filters, and spark plugs, but he also knows the old guy has his fragilities. He may not always be cooperative. Tom will let Guy putt along at 40 mph, smoke or drink excessively, but when the whip comes out Guy understands his role.

Lynn has spent probably just as much time in the cabin as Tom. She’s been a great traveling companion, and hardly ever complains about sucking up gas fumes, or waiting for a tow truck in the 95-degree heat. Her organizational skills are legendary. She’s an excellent planner, chronicler, and navigator. Artistic, outgoing, and brimming with style, the party begins when the big suicide door opens, and she exits her luxurious cabin.

Kevin, Lynn’s brother, is new to this whole long-distance-travel-in-the-old-car business. It is harder and less comfortable than it looks. Throw in a few mechanical problems, an overheated cabin, and some language barriers, and a lesser man might become discouraged. Brother Kev, however, has met these challenges, and managed to put his own spin on the journey. He orchestrated a visit to Legoland, and is looking forward to the genuine “bier garten” scene.

Bureaucratic Challenges

Not surprisingly shipping your car from Kansas City to Iceland is not without its challenges. I did of course give myself plenty of time to get the ball rolling, but that in itself caused unforeseen problems. Suffice it to say the endeavor required mounds of paperwork, dozens of phone calls, and a computer-clogging number of emails. Much that could go wrong did go wrong: important emails lost, misunderstandings one both sides of the Atlantic, and, finally, Iceland changed its customs forms July 1st, so the forms I submitted were not accepted.

Timing is Everything

My plan was to fly to Reykjavik August 4th contact the shipper, and collect the car before August 7th. The 4th was a state holiday (commerce day), so we enjoyed a dip in the Blue Lagoon, and settled into our cozy Air B&B near the port. Reykjavik is a colorful town, sporting gobs of bars, restaurants, and shops. There are plenty of tourist activities such as whale watching boat trips, helicopter rides, and the requisite Ferris wheel. We spent an afternoon visiting a few art museums and dodging rain drops. If you’ve never visited Iceland before, don’t count on good weather. You’ll be lucky to get one sunny day a week. Temps in the 50s, spitting rain, and howling winds are the summer norms.

The Clock is Ticking

The following day we visited Eimskip, the shipper, who finally informed me about the new customs forms. They would be emailed to me. Twenty-four hours later still no email. By now I’m calling everyone in the company looking for answers. I can see the car sitting in their storage area—so close! Kevin suggests I check my spam folder. Voila! It takes one minute to fill out and send the declaration, and by 1pm I get the call to pick up the car.

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Driving an 86-Year-Old Limousine in Iceland

The rules for driving in Iceland are like anywhere else: keep to the right, don’t speed, and, yeah, no right turn on red. The maximum posted speed limit is 90 kms, roughly 55 mph. That’s perfect for the old black car. Guy Noir doesn’t like to go much faster, he’s geared pretty low. The roads appear normal, and not too chopped up by the inclement weather. But that’s an illusion. Think of the ruts created by the wagon wheels rolling west in the 1800’s. Some of these swales are still visible today along the Santa-Cali-Gon routes. In Iceland the rutted highways make a perfect trap for the tall bias-ply whitewalls of the ‘39. Constant attention must be focused on keeping the car going straight, and on the right side of the road. Reykjavík roads are the worst, perhaps because of the traffic. The farther east you travel, the less cars you’ll see, so you can release the banjo-wheel death grip, a bit. However, the northern route across the country runs along the Arctic Ocean ,and produces white capped fjords, and gale-force crosswinds. You’ll have both hands on the wheel again anticipating an oncoming holiday camper van getting blown into your lane. Not to mention Iceland’s Route 1, the Ring Road, is about as wide as your average suburban driveway. There are no shoulders, and precious few spots to pull over, unless you want to take your chances in the lava strewn tundra. Settlements are few and far between, but that’s doesn’t mean you’ll be alone.

Thirteen years ago Lynn and I traveled this same road in a rental car, and we pretty much had the road to ourselves. Now the popular tourist sites are overwhelmed with buses filled with retirees, camper vans for the more hardy, and hundreds of rent-a-cars racing among the admittedly few points of interest: waterfalls, geothermal areas, and scenic overlooks.
This is not to say the island country shaped like a duck is without its charms. The rugged landscape offers beautiful vistas of volcanic history: black sand beaches and crunchy lava moonscapes. Multitudes of waterfalls spring from black hillsides, and green meadows are dotted with white sheep. Deep fjords, ringed by formidable cliffs, harbor an abundance of sea life. You would be remiss if you didn’t avail yourself of a whale-watching cruise, or at least sampled a plate of fresh cod, or arctic char. Larger towns, though few and far between are tidy, colorful, and inviting. Akureyri, for example, has a lively art scene with galleries, and an art museum. Folk artists also proudly display their talents. Strolling the residential lanes we came across one home surrounded by a wonderland of handmade fairytale characters. The skill and effort reflected in these works was extraordinary.

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Akureyri is also home to an inspired botanical garden, and an expansive public swimming center heated by geothermal energy. In fact, you’ll find heated swimming pools in nearly every town in Iceland. Swim laps in the 85-degree water, or soak in the 102-degree tubs. How about a sauna, or a steam bath? No towel? No suit? No problem! You can rent it all, and it’s cheap. Just remember the pools are not chlorinated, so showering is mandatory.

Unfortunately, however, your local swimming hole may be the only cheap thing you’ll find along the way. Lunch for three will set you back $120.00, dinner $160.00. Of course, you can buy a hot dog at a food truck, or stock up on groceries at the local market. But there you’ll have to squeeze around the backpackers who are in no rush to return to their wet tents, and the hoards of Italians chattering in the aisles. If you’ve got the dough, though, you can book yourself into some stunning accommodations, and enjoy gourmet meals. No surprise, gas is not cheap, either. The ‘39 loved the 95 octane fuel, and sucked it up at its usual 7 or 8 mpg. At ten bucks a gallon, our 700-mile crossing cost about $700.00 in fuel.

Saying Our Goodbyes

While the car and its occupants survived mostly unscathed during their Icelandic crossing, there were some issues. First, a lightbulb change went south when I dropped the glass turn signal lens, shattering it into several bits that had to be Super-Glued back together. Also a driver’s side wiper-arm shaft popped loose rendering the wiper inoperable. This made crossing a 2000-foot peak in a foggy mist a bit tricky, to say the least. Our last two days found us in yet another charming seaside village: Seyoisfjorour, where all hands boarded the ferry to Denmark.

As we lined up to enter the massive hull of the Norrona, the old black fellow continued to make friends. Other travelers stopped to ask questions, and take photos. If you want to make friends, drive your Classic. The ship did, however, further challenge my driving skills. There was little time to waste loading the hold, and some tricky turns awaited us as I negotiated the wet and steep, steel surface of the car deck. Quickly, however, the able crew loaded our car and 800 more. One hundred forty trucks also made the voyage, along with 1600 passengers and crew. The ship itself feels more like a cruise ship than a ferry. On board you’ll find beautiful restaurants, a movie theatre, library, gym, sauna, and even a swimming pool that happily sloshes below the water line. Our cabin was pleasant.
Even more pleasant was the warm weather and sunshine that greeted us in Denmark. Gone were the cold misty mountains and the tour buses. This northern part of Jutland sports white sand beaches, with towering dunes, and swimmable ocean temps. It’s a vacation destination, not an international tourist Mecca. Most visitors are Danish or German, and you will not find road signs or menus automatically translated into English.

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Meeting up with the Cadillac Kids for the BIG MEET in Kremsmunster, Austria

The BIG MEET is a three-day event in Kremsmunster, Austria for all Cadillac owners regardless of their club affiliations. In its 15th year, the activities include a driving tour, car show, and, of course, good food. This year 70 Caddies, and 150 people from 11 nations are in attendance. The weekend is a prelude to the Grand European which will take place in Munich Germany. While our initial plans saw us spending a leisurely few days driving down to Austria, an invitation came to join a group of Cadillac lovers who were planning to travel to the BIG MEET from southern Germany. How could we resist being part of a five-Cadillac caravan? The only catch was we had to hot-foot it 500 miles in one day.
Remember the old tune: Fun, fun, fun is the Autobahn…? Well, when you’re driving an old car at 55 mph hanging with the trucks in the right lane while the speed demons wiz past at supersonic speeds, you’ll rethink the joviality of that tune. Kevin and I switched driving every two hours to keep alert and the sunny weather helped make the eleven and a half hour journey bearable. Besides, the old sixteen didn’t seem to mind, as long as the dino juice was topped up. This ritual was performed at alarmingly frequent intervals at some pretty sketchy rest stops. Our only automotive failure was mental: I left the gas cap at the fuel stop!

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The Drive to the BIG MEET

We arrived at the home of Anja and Klaus Deisinger that evening, in the little south German town of Bahlingen. Klaus is a professional mechanic as well as European CLC liaison. He has played a crucial role in organizing this year’s Grand European. No time to waste, we were whisked away to an enjoyable dinner at a local restaurant. Here we met the traveling companions we’d drive with for the next week. Dave King, a CLC member and his wife Becky would drive Klaus’ ‘56 Sedan deVille. Rick Payton, Palm Springs Chapter founder, was behind the wheel of the ‘67 Coupe, Jeff and Becca took the blue ‘68 Fleetwood, and Klaus himself drove his impeccably perfect—all original—‘58 Fleetwood. Taking turns at various helms were Tom from Austin, Texas, and Jay and his wife, Sami, also from Palm Springs, California.
Before turning in for the night, I was able to use Klaus’ wonderfully equipped wash bay to bring the ‘39 back to some semblance of its former glory. My efforts, however, were all for naught as rain peppered the motorcade for the next two days. On the bright side, Klaus, of course, had a replacement fuel cap.
As expected, BIG MEET organizers arraigned a weekend of luxurious activities. Imagine dozens of Detroit beauties cruising through sunny Austrian towns on our way to a fabulous buffet at a lakeside mansion. Surprised Teutonic townsfolk who witnessed the parade appeared slack-jawed and mute with disbelief. The next day, a visit to an exquisite chocolatier ruined everyone’s diet. Finally it was time for the display of Cadillacs at the Kremsmünster town park.

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Big Deal at the BIG MEET

Guy Noir certainly has a presence that folks in the States can appreciate. At car shows and Grand Nationals he attracts attention and curiosity. So I was prepared for the old guy to be welcomed in the olde country. I did not, however, expect the car to be celebrated and adored as if he was George Clooney at the Academy Awards. “Please park your car on top of the hill, so all may admire it,” suggested George Pfeiffer, MEET organizer. Many BIG MEETERS—and there were 120 other Cadillac owners—had never seen a V-16. All were fascinated by the car and our journey. Why did you come? Why do you have this car? Where else will you go? How did you ship the car? We were questioned frequently, not only by fellow participants and residents, but Austrian media.

TV station ORF used part of my interview in their broadcast, while one of Austria’s newspapers sent a reporter. In addition, MEET organizers also set me down to ask questions. I can’t think the car has ever been more photographed. If iPhones used flash bulbs the black paint would have been bleached white!

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Not surprisingly we were awarded the Long Distance trophy. This was especially touching as the Austrian team has dedicated the this momento in honor of German CLC Member Torsten Loth who died suddenly of natural causes. Lynn and I have fond memories of Torsten, having spent time with him at the Swiss and Australian nationals. He and his father restored a 1959 Eldorado Brougham, and wrote an article about the work for the Self Starter. We hoped to see him this trip, and only learned of his passing when we received the award.

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BIG MEET to Grand European Munich

As wonderful as the BIG MEET was, it was also a prelude to the European CLC members’ Grand European. The GE’s host hotel was the ultramodern Infinity Hotel a few miles outside Munich. GEs roll much the same as CLC Grand National events. They are smaller, of course. Ours counted about 57 cars, and 80 people. The advantage here is members can drive to some of the activities, though we did hop on one bus for a trip to downtown Munich. There we lunched at a famous ‘bier garten,’ the Hofbrauhaus. Remember, Munich is the home of the official Octoberfest. Later we visited the fabulous Residenze Museum, and BMW World, a beautiful facility that even housed Elvis’ Beemer, a sexy 507 convertible he bought when he was a soldier stationed in Germany. Originally painted white, Elvis chose a red color to discourage girls from writing love notes on it with lipstick. It’s now in its factory color.

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All Good Things Must Come to an End

The week’s activities culminated in the much-anticipated evening gala. Here organizers were thanked, an excellent meal was served, and, of course, things quickly got out of hand. An inspired duo of musicians kept the party going with oldies, while Conga lines spontaneously formed. Late nighters were finally chased off the dance floor at midnight. All that was left was to say our goodbyes at breakfast. And what a lot of goodbyes there were. The GE attracted club members from 11 different countries: Germany, Austria, Belgium, Spain, the US, the UK, Sweden, Holland, Italy, Finland, and France.

Time for a Little Maintenance

During our drive across Iceland and down through Western Europe the odometer clicked off about 2500 miles. This included long Autobahn stretches as well as tortuous but scenic alpine climbs. On a US road trip I’ll pull into a quick lube shop and have the oil changed. Guy appreciates a fresh ten quarts of SAE 30 every thousand miles, or so. However, across the pond no such establishments exist. Nor is straight 30-weight oil easily available. Garages generally specialize in one marque, and are loath to risk touching an unfamiliar car. I explained the issue to two German club members, and was instantly offered two options: Travel back to Klaus Deisinger’s, or accept an oil change invitation at the home of Veronica and Christian Doerk. Because the Doerk’s home was on our next route, we followed Christian to his fully equipped attached garage. It’s rare to find a European garage big enough to squeeze in a shark-finned Cadillac, but Christian’s with its two four-post lifts would be the envy of any Texan. Thoughtfully Christian had pre-ordered 10 liters of classic car motor oil, and I had a filter in the trunk, so the work went smoothly. It was a great pleasure to spend time with this generous man, his thoughtful wife, and charming boys, Leo and Freddie. Soon enough we were on our way to Füssen, a German town surrounded by castles.

Füssen to Passau

Füssen, home to Ludwig’s famed Neuschwanstein Castle is an historic burg surrounded by the Bavarian alps. Here hot air balloons and paragliders dot the sky beside the craggy peaks. The castle, you may know, was the inspiration for Disneyland’s Magic Kingdom. So it’s definitely very overrun with tourists. We skipped the lines and drove 60 miles to the lesser known Lindenhof Castle which was based on France’s Versailles. Here we toured the beautiful mansion and gardens at our leisure with very little tour-bus culture. Other activities included a hike through the mountains, and the requisite visit to a monastery. After three nights we drove off to Passau on the Danube River.

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Passau to Vienna

Passau, the town of three rivers, as it is known, plays an essential role in inland transportation. Barges and long, low-slung tour boats ply the Donau, as it is known in these parts, all the way to its end in the Black Sea. Along the way are some of Europe’s greatest cities: Budapest, Bratislava , and Vienna. Our destination was Vienna, but not by car or boat, instead by bicycle. This meant Guy Noir had to sit this one out. Luckily our hotel put us in touch with a family who rented us a secure underground location where the old guy could get some well-deserved rest. In Passau, we met up with friends Karlie and Eileen who traveled from the States to join us for the six-day, 239-mile pedal fest. Great friends, warm weather, and beautiful views made the bicycling an enjoyable experience. Each night we stayed in a hotel in a different city along the route with the Pedalo company leapfrogging us with our luggage. The route took us over bridges, through quaint little towns, and on the river itself, as we needed to make numerous river crossings by ferry.

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Vienna

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Bicycling into a city as vast as Vienna was not as daunting as we had feared. The D1 bike lane funneled us right into the city center. Setting up camp in the town’s oldest, and most beautiful hostelry, the Hotel Stefanie, was no bother, either. From this fine establishment Vienna’s most glorious sites were but a short stroll away. We marveled at St. Stephen’s Cathedral, viewed great art at the Belvedere Palace, where Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” is on display. At the Albertina, we enjoyed a Monet-to-Picasso retrospective. A must on your stroll through Vienna is a stop at the Sacher Hotel for a famous chocolaty torte treat.

Haus des Meeres

Continue through the architecturally beautiful residential lanes to discover one of Vienna’s most unique venues: The Haus des Meeres. This massive concrete structure was originally constructed as a flak tower to defend the city from allied air assaults during WWII. Because it proved too sturdy to destroy, it has been repurposed as an aquarium, and petite zoo. The ten levels of the tower have no trouble supporting the heavy salt water aquarium tanks, and the miniature Australian outback. Mind the birds which fly freely through the space.

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Hello Again to Friends, and Goodbye to Vienna

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