Yesterdays Wheels

We were stopped at one of the several traffic lights in town this morning and a 1964 Chevy Bel Air came to a halt in the lane beside us.  Freshly painted in two colors, red and beige, it looked better than the day it left the factory.  The guy driving it appeared to be about our age but you could tell by the expression on his face that he was in his mid to late teens.  Old cars will do that to old geezers.

My first car was a 1956 Ford Crown Victoria.  I bought it when I was fifteen with money I had saved by delivering newspapers and TV guides for the previous three years, and I still have the ignition key that started the car and hundreds of teenage adventures.  Things are a little different these days, I don't think anyone actually works and saves up to buy anything.  Mostly folks rush out to get their hands on whatever they desire at that moment and worry about paying for it later.  That's OK, I guess, but the anticipation that used to be such a huge part of a purchase is lost in the modern transaction.  It's just one more pleasure we've given up.

Next came a Triumph TR-3.  A Chevy Impala killed it by running a light in 1965.  I still remember Bruce Fladmark yelling "We're hit!" from the passengers side as the monster Chevy bore down on us. The Triumph kindled a love of sports cars that stayed with me off and on for thirty years.  The last sports car I owned was an MGB that I retired in 1993.  I'd still have one but I have literally outgrown them.  Maybe, if I stop eating for a month or two, I'll get another one.  The tiny Mazda's sure look zippy and some days that's the way I feel.  But if it happens, it better happen soon because those zippy feeling days are getting farther and farther apart. 

The TR was followed by the only two cars I ever wished I had kept.  After having one kill the TR, I bought a 1963 Chevy Impala SS Convertible which I traded in, after three years, for my first brand new car, a 1968 Dodge Charger.  The Chevy was a baby blue color with a blue and white interior, had a 327ci-300hp engine and came complete with several girlfriends.  The Charger was a deep, deep green, and was really fast off the line.  It didn't turn very well and took some time to stop, but overall it was a great performer.  Those two were the prettiest cars I have ever owned and I just wish I had been smart enough to realize it at the time. 

There have been many cars since then that sort of blur together, one after the other, mostly because I was a believer in America and during the 70's, 80's and 90's bought what I now realize were very inferior American brands that needed to be replaced way too often.  GM, Ford and Chrysler repaid that loyalty by moving parts production to somewhere in the general neighborhood of Mars.  I think it has to do with Little Green Men not needing a living wage. So much for patriotism.  But, I'll bet we're gonna get back at the Big 3 for eliminating jobs here - since nobody's working, we'll just quit buying.  Let'em go broke like we did!

Cars aren't as important to me these days as they were when I was younger.  Now it's more about getting from one place to another, safely and surely,  than it is about a lifestyle.  There may be twenty or thirty different manufacturers making cars today but I'm pretty sure there are only four different cars on the road.  There are tiny ones, little ones, crossovers and pickups.  To me they all look pretty much the same and it's hard to get excited about any of them. For any of you who remember when MTV was about music and not about child pornography, here's an idea for a Buggles comeback, "Aerodynamics killed the Automobile."  Harley Earl lies a-moldering in his grave.

Even though what I now drive has lost the magic that came with my earliest rides, I'll never forget those first four cars.  They are a part of who I am and where I've been.  If I were to sit behind the wheel of any of those four today, I'd look like the guy who was driving the '64 Bel Air next to me at the light - a teenager.  It's a guy thing.

UPDATE:  I got to thinking about Bruce going through the wooden floorboard of the TR and winding up getting his bottom scratched without even using his hands and did a facebook search for him.  Heard back today and now, 46 years later, he's alive and well in Montana!  Ya just gotta love facebook!