I’m sure someone in my family knows the stories of my ancestors’ migration from England to the new lands. I do know my family has documented their migration across this country. I’ve gotten some of the details, in bits and pieces, from my folks. Each tidbit has helped me understand my heritage.

So it is with my Morris Traveller. When I originally bought the car, the owner had some details about it, but not enough to really put together its background.

A couple weekends ago, we had the chance to spend time with the British Car Club folks at a local, private Chevy collection. “Cars is cars” is the only explanation why the British Car Club would congregate at a garage dedicated to American models. The museum-quality garage was a great respite from the Arctic cold, as well as a great place to chat with folks.

My daughter and I were barely in the main door, admiring a ’53 Corvette when we were introduced to a local Classic Mini denizen. As interesting as the row of first-decade ’Vettes was, the conversation quickly became more compelling.

My good friend Randy Anderson, who helped get me hooked on the Traveller, introduced me to Davey Walker. Our introduction to Davey, as it did to most folks that day, included “he’s the guy who bought ‘That Traveller’.” That launched Davey into a tale of retrieving a Traveller from Long Island to bring to Des Moines years ago. I was too slow to immediately catch on that the car he was talking about was now in my own garage. Once I figured it out, he helped educate me on the known history of my car.

The trail started on Long Island, with older information obscured. Davey and the owner trekked out to New York to retrieve what they thought was a Cooper S version of the Traveller. They saw the car at a Mini meet-up in Ohio, if I remember right.

The previous owner had “dressed up” the engine to look like a Cooper S (a souped up version of the Classic Mini) by putting a couple fake bolts on the engine block. Davey admitted that he and the owner might have discovered the sleight of hand under closer inspection. In the end, though, it just didn’t matter.

The car that sits in my garage is pretty much the same as when it made the migration from Long Island to Des Moines. It had already been painted black, replacing the red that peeks out of chips or from the undercarriage. The original engine, which sits on the opposite side of the garage, was blown sometime after it was migrated. I take that as an indication that the owner had a blast driving it. The shifter has been converted from the original “magic wand” style that came in directly from the firewall. The modified “remote shifter” now pops up between the front seats from the floorboard.

Just like a family history, there are many stories that will never be carried forward. There are other stories that are best told in person, crafted over time, and made dramatic by the teller. I know my Traveller has such stories. You’ll just have to ask me next time you see me.

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