My dear friend Pete Wyman passed away on September 25, 2023. He was 90 years old. I first met Pete over 20 years ago when his daughter Pam, a good friend and former work colleague of my wife’s, was visiting our home. Walking past the garage where I was tinkering, probably with the Isetta, Pam uttered in the most nonchalant way, “Oh, you should meet my father, he likes old cars too”. A short time later, I did meet Pete, and we became good friends almost immediately, bonding over our shared automotive passions.
Pete was a man of few words, and even when he did speak, he was soft-spoken, so during that first meeting, he spoke a bit about his collection, but I had a difficult time grasping what he said. He invited us to his home in Fairfield PA, outside of Gettysburg, and we eventually made the trek. As we pulled into the driveway, I saw this gorgeous green Alfa Romeo parked on the front lawn. As soon as I exited my car, I pointed to the Alfa and exclaimed “sell me this car!” Pete immediately replied “No, it’s not for sale, but you can drive it if you’d like”. Of course, I had the first of what would be many stints behind the wheel, something I got to do at every visit.
ABOVE: The first visit. Me with the Alfa which would someday be mine; my wife Margaretanne and I with the DeSoto; Pete with the DeSoto.
Also in his possession at that time were 2 pre-war cars, a 1931 DeSoto and 1936 Oldsmobile. The other surprise was to discover that he was the original owner of a 1979 Volvo 265 station wagon, an AACA award winner. I would eventually visit Pete at his home once or twice a year. At each visit I would work on one of his cars for him, and get to drive one or more of them. Through the years, the collection grew and shrank. Pete’s taste was eclectic: he added an AMC Pacer and Hudson Jet, neither of which he kept for long. In a moment of candor, he admitted that both were ‘whim’ purchases, made without much deliberation. He went on to sell the DeSoto, the Olds, and the Volvo, and added some newer iron in the form of a 2006 Jaguar XJ, a retro Ford Thunderbird, and a Volvo XC70. The Volvo was purchased new, while the Jag and T-Bird were low-mileage used cars.
ABOVE: The AMC Pacer next to my 2003 Volvo V70; the Alfa, Pacer and V70
Pete was an electrical engineer; you could literally say that he was a rocket scientist, as he performed contract work on the Space Shuttle for NASA. One of his proudest possessions was a photograph, autographed by the astronauts who had flown one of the Space Shuttle missions. Like other engineers I’ve met, he was fastidious with the care and upkeep of his cars. Also like some engineers, he enjoyed making what he saw as “improvements” to them. For example, the ’79 Volvo had a 3-speed automatic transmission, and to Pete, the engine revved too high at highway speeds. He was determined to put in a Volvo-sourced 4-speed, but ran into all kinds of issues regarding bellhousing shape, driveshaft length, and crossmember location. He persisted, though, and found a mechanic willing to work with him on it. Despite my own words of discouragement (“Pete, really, you hardly drive the car, is it worth it?”), he successfully completed the project.
I drove every one of his cars except the Hudson (my recollection is that he owned that car for such a short period of time that he bought it and sold it in between my visits!). The DeSoto was my first time behind the wheel of a pre-war car – I was shocked at how easy it was to drive. The Pacer was competent and didn’t feel like an old car. I said this to Pete about the Jaguar: you could jump onto Route 80, set the cruise control, and arrive in San Francisco still refreshed. Driving the ’36 Olds convertible was a huge thrill. The torque from that straight-8 engine was endless; the ride and handling were sublime. Steering effort was manageable, but with that long, long hood, one had to plan for turns half a block in advance.
ABOVE: The Jaguar XJ, with Pete’s new XC70 in the garage
Finally, the Alfa: I’ve told this story so many times, and still get a kick out of telling it. After that initial “No!” from Pete, I persisted in asking him to sell me the car every time I saw him. Well, persistence pays off! It took 8 years, but Pete finally said yes, and that gorgeous ’67 Alfa Romeo became mine in March of 2013. The sale was contingent on a gentlemen’s agreement that I would keep the Alfa in as original condition as he had done during his 45 years of stewardship. I’ve kept to my promise, and even though Pete is gone, I intend to continue to honor it.
I attended Pete’s service and burial on Monday, October 2. His wife, four daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren were all there (one daughter predeceased him). Pete was in the hospital two weeks prior, and spent the final week of his life at his home in hospice care. My wife and I visited him in the hospital, and while he was physically very weak, his mind was as sharp as ever, proven by his recollections with me of many of our automotive adventures.
I will greatly miss my friend Pete. Even though one is aware that someone’s time is coming to an end, it’s still a shock to learn that a friend has passed. I am honored to say that Pete Wyman was my friend. Please read his obituary to learn more about this wonderful man:
https://www.myersdurborawfh.com/obituary/Harold-Wyman
ABOVE: Views from inside the garage, with the ’79 265 and the ’36 Olds undergoing service.
Pete, his wife Charlen, and Volvo 265 at Hershey
Pete under the hood of the 265. Silver canister to right of coolant overflow bottle is electric pre-oiler installed by him, which delivers engine oil to cylinder heads before cranking.
Pete inside the ’36 Olds.
Pete, his wife Charlen, and my wife Margaretanne (with Volvo 265) at Hershey
Pete under the hood of HIS Alfa
The T-Bird
1936 Olds with T-Bird and ’79 Volvo in their garages
ABOVE: Beauty shots of the 1936 Olds, taken after I returned from driving it.
All photographs copyright © 2023 Richard A. Reina. Photos may not be copied or reproduced without express written permission.