Alexander Woollcott invited Harpo Marx to spend the weekend at his country house in Vermont. Harpo drove up in a broken-down Model-T Ford, a twenty-five-year-old derelict with tattered side-curtains and accordion-pleated fenders.
Woollcott stood transfixed by the spectacle.
"What on earth is that?" he demanded.
"This," replied Harpo. "Oh, this is my town car."
"What town?" asked the host. "Pompeii?"