Craving Chrome… But Just Kicking Tires

I love cars. I have always loved cars. A few years ago I forgot how much I loved cars.

As a child I had hundreds of Matchbox cars. I kept them in cases and revered them as something so special that only a select few could look at them, handle them or play with them. When I got older I subscribed to numerous car magazines such as Motor Trend, Car & Driver, Road & Track, Auto Week, Hot Rod and more. I could not get enough information about cars. I knew subtle differences between model years and although I had my favorites I remained a fan of all cars.

During September of my Sophomore Year in high school I was walking home along Stuart Drive in Bossier City, Louisiana. I had just gotten my license at the age of 15 but didn’t yet have a car. Sure, Mom let me drive hers when it was necessary but although licensed I was still a pedestrian for the most part. As I walked home with my friend, Mike, we passed a 1970 Mustang with a for sale sign on it. We stopped to look but the truth was I already knew everything about it. I was so well self-taught in the world of automobiles I could tell just by looking at this machine that it was definitely suitable. A young couple was selling it since they were having a baby but I could tell the husband wasn’t very happy about it. It had a little rust in the back, the paint was faded, the dashboard cracked and it had absolutely no options whatsoever. The car had no air conditioning, no power steering and no sound system other than the factory installed AM radio. I was in love. I was giddy in love. For the mere price of $500 all of my problems would be solved and life would be as perfect as possible for a 15 year old Louisiana boy.

What was even more miraculous was that my dad agreed. When I told him about the car later that evening he said yes. He said YES I could have the car.  I didn’t have to argue; I didn’t have to beg; I just had to ask and I had the keys to a 70 Mustang with a 351 Cleveland and 4 Barrel Carb. I was on top of the world and to validate that feeling the next day in Speech Class sitting next to Debbie Durham she said my car was hot. HOT she said. My self esteem levels soared and my world was complete.

But, that was just the beginning. One year later and I was on my third vehicle. At sixteen years old I had already had three different cars and that wasn’t the end of it. Through my life I have had dozens and dozens of vehicles. Old ones, new ones, domestic ones, imported ones – sedans, convertibles, coupes, trucks and SUVs. I ran the gamut but memory also took me back to that first one. I have an extreme passion for late 60’s and early 70’s muscle cars. I’ve owned a few, restored a few and have sat in hundreds but still… I love all cars. Back when I was a teenager the automobile dealerships were closed on Sunday and one of my favorite activities was to peruse the car lots without the bother of salesmen. I would jump from lot to lot studying prices, window stickers, dealer markup and available options. Sometimes I was really lucky and the occasional vehicle would be left unlocked. It never got old and I never stopped dreaming until at some point I stopped looking. I can’t remember when I stopped but I did.

So today, I started again. We have three classic car lots in Palm Springs, McCormick’s, 111 Vintage Automobiles and Exotic Motor Cars. I went to all of them. I went to them all in spite of the suave salespeople and I looked at cars. I sat in a few and admired many. When I see a beautiful muscle machine from a bygone era I get such an indescribable feeling from the far pit of my stomach and it quivers my entire being. I realized today that my passion for automobiles is truly part of the core of my soul. The rumbling of a domestic V8 represents a spiritual experience in my world. Those who share this passion will understand.

I picked out favorites on my journey today. The Mustang Mach I made me think of my old car friend Debbie Durham as that’s what she drove. The 69 Camaro RS/SS brought me back to my early 30’s when I had a black on black 68 SS convertible with a 350 V8. The Thunderbird reminded me of dreams not yet realized since that’s a car I’ve always wanted but haven’t yet captured. The Firebird evoked my passion for General Motors designs from my childhood. The truck brought me back to my country Louisiana roots. So many cars. So many stories.

Today I drive a Saab 9-7x. It’s nice. It’s practical. It’s safe. Obviously it’s not enough.