“I think this one is best of show,” the aged man glanced toward me asserting his fact. By aged, I mean like bourbon - matured in this monkey barrel we call life. Mature enough to sip the pleasure of a Cars and Coffee gathering.
We are admiring a pristine two-tone 1959 Dodge Coronet in salmon and beige (with matching motorboat). Although the same age as the Coronet, I am far from pristine and more like “as is.” Only folks our age admire a car such as this – big as the USS Nimitz aircraft carrier, and complete with tail fins just big enough to slice low lying fruit.
People (men and women) my age gravitate toward cars built in the1950s, 60s, and 70s. Cars we wanted (GTO, Mustang, and ‘Cuda’s), cars our parents would admit to owning (Ford Galaxie, Oldsmobile Delta 88, Chevy Impala), and cars they wanted (Ford Thunderbird, Chevy Corvette, Chevy Belair). There are no station wagons here – cars our parents would not admit owning (Ford Country Squire, Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser, or Chrysler Town and Country).
There are a fair number of exotics (Porsche, McLaren, Lamborghini, and Ferrari) that owners bring to gloat over. Like exotic women the exotics seem unobtainable and unapproachable. Imagine Gina Lollobrigida in a Lamborghini or Isabella Rossellini in a Maserati.
60s and early 70s muscle cars (Firebird, Camaro, Mustang, Cougar, Challenger, and Charger) draw crowds of all ages. Unlike our wristwatches they are timeless.
The local Miata Club is out in full force with generations A through D. The Miata's inhabit a full row side by side with the top down like sun bathers at the beach.
Upon arrival, I parked the lean green driving machine (LGDM) in the back row alongside what appeared to be a mid-2000s Toyota 4Runner. The mature lady exiting the passenger door looks at the LGDM and leans toward me and whispers, “We had one of those.”
“Oh yeah? What year?” my curiosity awakened.
She turns to her aged husband of age 60s vintage and thick grey mustache, “What year was our Miata?” she asks.
“‘95,” he says without looking. His eyes are locked, and he is walking toward a bright yellow 50s Chevy pick-up.
“You can get another?” I volunteer.
“Oh, he has to have his truck,” she motions toward the 4Runner.
“What year?” I ask sounding like a broken record.
“2005.” I smile and make a mental note, “Dang, I’m good.”
For enthusiasts, cars, like music and motorcycles, define us - “You are what you drive [or ride].” You remember every car your parent’s owned, and you remember every car you owned. Your kids will remember every car you own.
Cars and Coffee give us a chance to redefine ourselves – at least for a morning. Whether in a 1959 Dodge Coronet, a 2005 4Runner, or something in between, we see our once and future selves in a stroll through a crowded parking lot.
Drop in on a Cars and Coffee. As a high school buddy loved to say, “Don’t cost nothin'.”
And it may pay a dividend.
How about you? What did you drive (or ride)? Share a story!
2nd Helping
A 2008 Mazda MX-5 Miata (the Lean, Green, Driving Machine) and a 2005 Toyota 4Runner stare down an Italian exotic…
