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We all know that automobiles are hardly life's most important things, for they are simply man's assemblies of steel, glass, vinyl and paint. But autos truly play an important role not only in transit, but special interest and liesure as well. Some people seem to lean towards one car or another, or one type of car or another. Many times we don't have much choice in the matter, but when we do, it becomes for many an exiting choice. So yes, we all have our own tastes. Here's a little bit of mine. The first word I ever said was "car," according to my mother. She said I would hear the noise of my dad's car pull up to the house and say, "Kah,kah!!" Yeah, it sounds like something else but mom says I was saying "car." As I grew older, dad bought, tinkered, and sold many cars, all of them old cars in one fashion or another. I didn't notice many of them, for if anything I was too young. But I did enjoy attempting to say "barracuda" and making engine noises when the family would jump into that car. (I can't even picture the exterior of it at all). I remember at times watching the white curls of vapor and exhaust coming from the tailpipes of dad's cars in the cold late- fall evenings and actually thinking "I like that smell." (Hey c'mon, don't stop reading- that isn't so crazy...ha) Also, I would often hear stories about dad's '60 Pontiac. Once my uncle Roger took Doug(my brother) and I shopping in the "sixty Pontiac"(that was it's name, it seemed) and said we were going to burn rubber. I don't remember burning any rubber, though. ANYWAY, years went on, us kids started slowly maturing, and dad continued, seemingly slower, in the tinkering hobby. He came across a 1965 LeMans one year that he wished to buy, but had to wait two(?) years before he could actually purchase it due to changed minds of family etc. on the part of the seller. This car seemed to be come the family icon of what an automobile was, is, and should be. Through the years of middle school and junior high I believe I somehow learned to appreciate the LeMans, as it became the best looking car of all time, to me anyway. I became interested in autos more and more, and learned through books and stories about the legendary GTO. I soon found my "favorite car" to be a '65 GTO, for it had all the looks of the LeMans and the legend of GTO. I realized the scoops and those three letters added that much more beauty, too. As high school came, dad found another '65 LeMans which I pleaded he would sell to me, though my payments would of course be meager. The original LeMans cost plenty to upkeep and to slowly improve, and dad eventually got rid of this "new" one I wanted. As time went on dad found, while driving by the hospital in Provo, a gem in a backyard carport. It was a white '65 Lemans convertible, still owned by the original purchaser, sitting still and somehow calm. No jacked up rear, no crazy tires, no aftermarket tach encumbering the dusty dash. Just a white LeMans convert with gold upholstery, steel wheels, original wire wheel covers, and a modest little 285 horse 326. Dad offered 'em what he could afford, and after a long decision making process (a year, I believe), they accepted. After many more of life's events, I received the opportunity to buy that old convert. I really wanted a GTO, but figured this would do, since I couldn't afford a GTO anyway. After a winter of owning my first car (which was also my first OLD car), I quickly allowed the snowballing effect of discouragement overtake me. My car was leaky, boy was it leaky! And the trunk was so rusted I figured the body would seperate from the car any second, as the body mounts were all but gone back there. So, as tuition money came due and a 500- dollar '81 Honda came along, I sold the thing back to dad who was kind enough to buy it. I SOON REMEMBERED the wonderful, inexplicable feeling of driving that good- looking convertible, and looked back to when I owned it. I finally realized that maintenence is the name of the game with old cars, unless you can afford a restored one. And something inside me accepted fully the fact that I couldn't expect easy street with an old car, and that I had to learn to be content. And I settled with this attitude, purchasing the old convert again from dad, and enjoying many a fun ride, cruise, nice comment, and project. THE DEAL IS that old cars, especially Pontiacs, are the greatest autos ever produced. And the oldness of them is part of their quality. Old car smell is as priceless as the most exotic perfume, especially cranking up the heater! Looking at the tight, careful body of a '65 LeMans brings more intrigue than a Lexus or Lamborghini will ever hope to do. Sport Utility vehicles may come and go, with all their 'individuality,' but none will draw the friendly conversation of a stranger who admires my (or anyone's) '64 GTO and says aloud sentimentally, "Moon equipped!" as he reads the sticker on the quarter window. Guys who paid 20,000 smackers for a high-po Honda Prelude just like the guy's next door will doubtfully ever hear an older man at the gas station ramble lovingly about the one he had "years back" and "just like that one." Nor will the hot rod Honda owner likely receive the golden 'thumbs up' from a good old F-dude cruising alongside in a Nascar- sticker laden truck, or from the 50- something man, white shirt on and tie loosened, cruising along on a sunday afternoon in his pristine '55 Chevy with moon hubcaps. And as the S.U.V. driver contemplates performance with his neighbor, they will likely never bring up the fact that one can hear Tri-power, opened wide and breathing, louder than the exhaust while riding inside a GTO. Nor will they understand why the Holm's down the street waste their money and time on those noisy old Pontiacs, the white one that leaks in the winter, and the red one that only gets 5 or 6 miles to the gallon, and has three carburetors. WELL, CHANCES are you probably know why, and I do, too. |
