THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, September 28, 1996 TAG: 9609280240
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
SOURCE: BY PAUL SOUTH, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: ROANOKE ISLAND LENGTH: 118 lines
At an age when most people are putting on the brakes, 92-year-old Carl Reidemeister is putting the pedal to the metal.
``I never feel more alive than when I'm behind the wheel,'' Reidemeister said Friday from his Outer Banks home. ``Some folks at my age are waiting around to die.
``I'm not.''
Wearing a blue plaid driving cap over his head full of silver hair, Bermuda shorts, a golf shirt and shades, Reidemeister gets into his month-old Mercury Sable a bit gingerly. Vertigo forces him to walk with the help of a green-handled cane - or sometimes a walker. His legs are scraped and scratched due to a recent bad fall.
But once comfortably nestled in his driver's seat, Reidemeister becomes a new man.
``I've never gotten a ticket,'' he said. ``At my age, you can't afford to. But I drive like a demon sometimes.''
As he slides his 1996 Sable out of the parking lot near his house, Reidemeister makes his point. ``Watch this!'' he says. He pumps the gas pedal - and the car lunges ahead.
The six-cylinder engine growls. Reidemeister reveals a huge grin. ``This is a great car,'' he declares.
The folks at the dealership - where Reidemeister paid cash for his new ride - know firsthand the former Ford Motor Co. employee's need for speed.
``I have a Mustang Cobra,'' said Dock Sawyer, whose family owns R.D. Sawyer Motor Co. in Manteo. ``I pulled out behind him one day and couldn't catch him. He really likes to blow it out and make sure the car will do what it ought to do.''
Every two to three years, Reidemeister buys a new car. He loves the power of the engine. And, like everyone, he relishes the unmistakable aroma that only new cars give off.
``Isn't it wonderful?'' he asks no one in particular, breathing in the new Ford's fragrance.
It's only natural that the nonagenarian would be concerned with performance. For 30 years, until 1960, he was a quality control specialist for Ford. He spent his working years at Ford's Mahwah, N.J. plant.
``At the time it was built, it was the largest Ford plant ever built,'' he remembers. ``It had 35 acres under the plant.''
Reidemeister once saw Henry Ford at the plant. He met Lee Iacocca when Iacocca was a Ford executive. Reidemeister credits him with revitalizing the company he loves.
``First it was the Falcon. Then it was the Mustang. He helped put Ford back on the map,'' Reidemeister said.
Cars always have been a prominent part of Reidemeister's life. On the door of his apartment, the Ford symbol shines in blue and white. Inside, a picture of a 1929 Duesenberg hangs in the entry hall. In his bedroom a four-foot long poster hailing the Mustang is tacked above his bed.
``Ford is a great company,'' he says. ``They take care of everything. Medicine, teeth, walkers . . . Without them, I couldn't afford to buy a car.
``My first car was a Mitchell,'' Reidemeister recalls. ``Top speed 45 miles an hour. When I started to drive, I didn't have a license. But cars were so new in those days, a lot of states didn't have laws about licenses. I've driven across the country four times.''
Reidemeister isn't fazed by new laws in many states that require motorists age 65 and older to re-apply for licenses.
``That's all right by me,'' he says confidently. ``I'd take a test anytime.''
Reidemeister remembers the car he drove on his honeymoon in 1930, shortly after he married his late wife, Katharine.
``It was a blue Model A Roadster with yellow wire wheels,'' he says. ``We met on the beach at West Hampton, N.Y. Her parents rented a cottage right next to ours. We hit it off right away. We had things all planned to go on forever.
``But things didn't work out that way.''
They remained married until her death 37 years later.
His wife's death and his own retirement haven't slowed Reidemeister. Cars have been his life's work - and, in a way, his passion. But had the road turned differently, music may have been his calling.
He recently began teaching himself piano on a small electric keyboard.
``My father, Friedrich Reidemeister, was the treasurer for Steinway Pianos,'' Reidemeister says. ``I used to eat in the Steinway cafeteria. I ate at a table next to Vladamir Horowitz once. It didn't mean anything to me then.''
Now, on his keyboard, the great-grandfather can pick out a peppy version of ``Has Anybody Seen My Gal?'' and other tunes.
`` `Smoke Gets In Your Eyes' and `Maria' from `West Side Story' are great songs. I probably should have gone into music. I've always loved it,'' he says.
Reidemeister also paints. On his wall, pastoral scenes of the Adirondacks hang above the sofa.
``I never had a lesson,'' he says. ``But I won some art shows. The painting on the right has a certificate and a dollar bill pasted to the back. I won those at a show.''
His other passions are crossword puzzles and swimming at the beach.
``I think they're good for you,'' he says of the crosswords. ``They keep your mind sharp. I do them with a pencil. I'm not confident enough to use a pen. My wife could do `The New York Times' crossword faster than anyone I've ever seen. When we lived in upstate New York, at around 10 a.m. on Sundays, our neighbors would start calling and say, `Katharine, what's 44-Down?' ''
Reidemeister, a father of three, has three grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. One of his daughters, Gail Anderson, lives in Nags Head. After spending 10 years on Roanoke Island, he soon will move to be closer to her.
The secret to his longevity?
``I think it's genetics,'' he says. ``On my father's side, they all lived past 90.''
His formula for what fuels a happy life is simple.
``I've always believed, do the best you can without offending anyone else,'' he says. ``And if anyone needs help, help them.''
In the meantime, he will continue to work on his puzzles and try to find someone to take care of two stray cats - Bubba and Suzy - that he has adopted.
And, of course, he will keep his motor running.
``When I was a kid, I always wanted a Stutz Bearcat,'' he says. ``As fine a two-seat roadster as you'll ever see. I didn't make that dream. I used to own a lot of Saabs. They're good cars. But this one I have now is solid as a rock.
``When I sit behind the wheel, I'm happy.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by DREW C. WILSON\The Virginian-Pilot
Carl Reidemeister, 92, with his 1996 Mercury Sable. He's never
gotten a ticket. ``At my age, you can't afford to. But I drive like
a demon sometimes,'' he said. by CNB