In the early eighties I did a two year stint with a small ad agency which did mostly real estate accounts. Our boss, Hedy, was a remarkable woman originally from Switzerland who decided that we should diversify our accounts. Using his trademark finesse, our primary account executive, Paul, managed to land a major account with the Southern California Maserati importers. Part of the deal involved product placement in major media, such as movies and television.

Somehow Paul arranged for Sylvester Stallone to have a Quattroporte, their luxury four door sedan, (MSRP appx. $65 K, eighties dollars) at his personal disposal, which was also used as Rocky’s car in Rocky 3. (It seemed odd, later, since the Italian Stallion might be better represented by Ferrari. But, no matter, it got exposure.) Stallone ended up purchasing one.

The very sporty Merak, a classic red sports model. (MSRP appx. $40K, eighties dollars) also appeared in Falcon Crest on CBS.

Paul was close to closing a deal for the Merak to replace the Ferrari on Magnum P.I. but to keep things as they were, Ferrari offered Don Belisario three free cars and said the cast could buy at cost. Maserati couldn’t match the deal.
One of the gigs for the Quattroporte was on Bob Newhart’s TV Special, and another for an episode of Remington Steele was being shot at some polo fields near the ocean in Malibu, for which I was selected to deliver the car. This was my first opportunity to drive one and, knowing how shooting schedules work, I came prepared.

Arriving for an early shoot, two of us waited in the posh, leather upholstered lounge, reclined in splendor, listening to the powerful, encompassing custom sound system, snacking on fruit, cheese, and crackers, and sipping imported wine while we watched the polo ponies thunder by. It was a gray day with occasional sprinkles blowing in off the Pacific which kept holding up the shoot until finally they gave up and never even used the car. Just in time for us to face the rush hour traffic from the west side. But the day was passed ever so pleasantly and it makes for a good memory. A classy, relaxing afternoon.

And I was on the clock!

While I had gotten the experience of driving the Quattroporte, I had never gotten the opportunity to drive the head-turning Merak. Others had always gotten the privilege, until one fateful day when the others weren’t available and it was finally my chance. It was brand new and had to be driven back to the dealer, many LA miles away, after a local shoot. Hedy followed me in her car to conclude the deal and give me a ride back.

Everything started out fine and I was on my very best driving behavior, terrified at the responsibility, especially with the boss on my tail. But I was also relishing the experience! It was low slung and rumbled with power, demanding awe and respect from lesser conveyances.

Driving down Rosemead Blvd. headed for the I-10 freeway, we came to a stoplight and I was the first car at the crosswalk. When the light turned green, I depressed the clutch and put into first gear and eased it out. When it accelerated to shifting speed, I clutched and put it in second gear. That’s when the accelerator pedal stuck to the floor and it just kept going faster! I panicked and started kicking the pedal, then hit the clutch which just made it rev hard.

Terror ensued!

Meanwhile, when the car bolted, Hedy thought I was just taking the opportunity to open her up and thought little of it, picking up her pace to keep up with me. One of her many talents was she was an experienced race car driver.

Somehow I got it out of gear and got the accelerator pedal unstuck by the time we got to the next light which already had stopped cars. My heart was pounding as I looked in my rear view mirror. Hedy was right behind me and her face remained impassive, so I figured the episode wasn’t obvious.

While I wondered what had happened and whether I should do something, the light changed. I waited for the car ahead of me to get well into the intersection before I eased it into first. She shot off again, the pedal stuck to the floor, only now in first, barreling toward a slower car! I pulled it out of gear, jerked up on pedal with my toe, and it just fell back to the floor, useless, engine still racing with a boastful roar. I yanked it into the K-Mart parking lot and coasted to a stop in a space near the street, clicked off the ignition, and climbed out to face Hedy.

She was completely understanding, gratefully, and we set to solving the dilemma. It was clear that we weren’t going to make it to the dealer before they closed, so Hedy found a phone (pre cell phone days) and called the dealer and then arranged for a tow to bring it back to her place on the hill in Arcadia until better transport arrangements could be made.

Unfortunately a flat bed tow truck wasn’t available, just one that lifted the front, rolling the towed car on its back wheels. But the Maserati had a fiberglass body and a brand-new paint job, and it was tiny, light, and very low slung. At first the guy was afraid to attempt it, but we COULDN’T just leave it in the K-Mart parking lot overnight! No way! So he was SO careful, putting a blanket for protection, and raising it a little and running back, climbing under to see to make sure nothing was dragging. I rode with him as we followed Hedy back to her place. She cleverly chose the route to avoid traffic and dips and we slowly wound our way up into the tony foothills of Arcadia to her house, the tow guy taking great pains not to bounce the delicate carriage.

She brought us the back way so we would approach her house from the uphill side, on the opposite side of the street. Her house had a shallow circular driveway serving the entrance, but at the downhill side of the house, the driveway to the garage was a straight shot up a steep hill. Too steep for the tow truck to deliver the car to the safety of the garage. Her plan was to coast the car down the hill, swing into the circle, then a hard left into the garage.

The guy was dubious but carefully detached the precious car, proud to have delivered it unscathed. Hedy confidently climbed into the drivers seat, clicked on the seat belt, and released the handbrake. (In my mind, I could see her snapping on the chinstrap to her imaginary crash helmet.) Then she discovered that the steering wheel was locked and turned on the key to the ignition to free it. But the car just sat there.

Funny, seemed steep enough.

So we two gave her a good, strong push downhill.

That’s when we discovered that it didn’t roll freely because it also had been in first gear, and we actually push-started her, downhill, in first, with the accelerator still stuck on full!

She lurched down the hill, but skillfully yanked it out of gear and turned off the engine, coasting deftly into the driveway and whipping around the corner into the garage. The guy and I just stood there with our mouths open. We walked down the hill toward her house, and, as I began to boast that she had been a race car driver, we saw her rush to the corner of the garage and fiddle with something and then run back.

Then we saw a gushing river of water come roaring down the driveway and splashing down the street.

Rushing to the scene, we found the treasured car impaled on the pool pump, water spraying everywhere, and the front end caved in!

The back of the garage was built open to the backyard and the retaining wall of the hillside swimming pool. When Hedy turned off the engine, it also turned off the brakes and she had plowed into the pump full force, causing the deluge and totaling the car. Luckily the pump was there, or it might have been the retaining wall and the whole pool crashing down on her. The seat belt habit served her well and she was unscathed, just shaken.

I AM SO GLAD SHE OFFERED TO DRIVE IT INTO THE GARAGE HERSELF!

So was the tow guy, though he was bummed, after all his careful work, to see it destroyed so comically.

I moved on from the job sometime after that for unrelated reasons so I never did hear what the outcome was. But I imagine it had to be heavily insured to be lent out as it was, and it may have been repairable. I’m still walking free, though, sooo……..

Never got to drive another one again, though, but that’s OK.
The first time was exciting enough, thank you.