“It Looked Like a Classic Car To Me”

What is it about classic automobiles that draw such attention? I can spot the make and model of a vintage car from a half mile away on the expressway.

“That was just a 58 Dodge Polaris that went by,” I exclaim to my family. They’re not listening. Mrs. Carroll is only mildly interested and the kids are plugged into their Mp3 worlds. It’s their loss.

My first car was truly a classic. My father and I found a 1957 Chevy Belair (2-door) that an elderly woman was selling. It was 1976 and I would have bought it even if it had three wheels. My father was more patient. He scrutinized the car as fathers are required to do when kids are overanxious to spend their money. Then he declared it a good deal for $250 and we bought it.

I proudly pulled the faded green classic out of the driveway and down the street hoping someone was watching – they weren’t. My first lesson is classic car ownership came five minutes later on the Garden State Parkway, a death trap by Texas standards. The car drifted across the narrow lanes with little concern for my steering. I quickly learned that a rapid back and forth motion of the oversized steering wheel kept the car aimed down the center of the lane. Rapid pumping of the brake pedal also helped slow the green machine down.

Despite its flaws, it was officially rated as a cool car on campus that fall. I probably drove it 30,000 miles over the next four years although that could be disputed since the speedometer never worked. Except for a single encounter with a Tennessee State Trooper, the lack of a speedometer wasn’t much of a setback.

The finned wonder suffered from the same problems that most “northern cars” experienced over time – rust. The car was reasonably solid but the floorboards had rusted through from below. Lifting the floor mats gave a fast paced view of the interstate and memories of Fred Flintstone starting his car. The tube radio gave off more heat than the heater and the front end continued to loosen up but it ran like a rocket.

Practicality won over coolness after we got married and I sold the Chevy to a car guy who planned to restore it.

Years later I impulsively bought a 1953 Buick Custom in an attempt to capture the fun I’d had with my old ’57. Instead it seemed like I captured one of Rommell’s tanks. The car rumbled with loose exhausts and smelled like its upholstery had been treated with motor oil. I should have known I was out my league when I couldn’t the ignition switch. It was conveniently located under the gas pedal. I kept the car for two months before admitting I had made a foolish mistake. As I mentioned earlier this year, it is hard to buy back a memory.

Still, I gaze wistfully at old cars, especially ’57 Chevies, but I find them better suited for car shows than my garage.

Speaking of car shows, the Foundation for Allen Schools hosts Allen’s first Customs and Classic Car, Motorcycle and Truck Show this Saturday in the Allen High School parking lot. The show, which is free to the public, is a drive-in event for custom and classic car owners who compete in numerous categories including a People’s Choice Award. Bring the family and cruise the car show on May 17 from 10 am – 2 pm. The price is right and you might find my Chevy there. I’m sure it’s been painted so just check under the floor mats.