Sunday, February 13, 2011
How it starts.....
I remember when my son and daughter were little and i'd take them places in my 442. They'd tell their grandmother or aunts-"Daddy's car goes "Rump-rump". My son, who's now 17 lusts after a new Camaro SS convertible. I remember being a little kid, and "Tween" I think they call it now. My dad had a 64 GTO. His best friend had a 63 split-window Corvette. Another friend had a 67 Firebird with a 400 and a 4-speed. One of my uncles had a 70 Hugger orange Mustang. ( it wasn't a Boss 302 ) Another uncle had a 1970 Charger. These cars and how cool they were are indelibly burned into my memory, as I rode in all of them, and later got to drive a few. My first car was a Carousel Red Ram Air III, 4-speed,4.33 geared 69 GTO Judge! To this day, my mother swears my dad bought the car as much for himself as for me. She's probably right. From riding in the Judge, when my little brother got old enough, he went out and bought a 69 GTO! ( He couldn't find or afford a Judge, but that's the breaks ). It may be in the DNA, or maybe it's an acquired taste. Anyone want to weigh in on this theory? Mastermind
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Dunno if I buy your theory. While it seems that you had exposure to muscle cars from an early age and learned to love them when you were young, I'm a huge muscle car fanatic and I had virtually no exposure when I was a kid. The most powerful car my dad ever owned was a Gremlin X when I was just a wee lad. He later owned a succession of Chevy blazers, a late-70's Subaru wagon, a Honda Civic wagon, a Geo Metro (seriously. And my dad is over 6' tall and 250 lbs), and a mini-van. My uncle had some cool cars (a Bricklin and an awesome Manx buggy with metal flake as big as your face), but he lived 2,000 miles away, so he didn't have much influence over me.
ReplyDeleteDespite all of those shitty cars my family owned, I became a car lover. Before I was old enough to drive I was a subscriber to Hot Rod. I vividly remember having posters of The California Kid, Big Red, Cadzilla, and others plastered on the walls of my bedroom. My first car was a 1969 Mustang coupe with a 302 4bbl and a 3 speed. I still remember getting ticketed the first night I took the car out cruising (Pssst, don't tell my dad). I had to sell the '69 when I moved away since I simply couldn't afford the gas or repairs. Later, I owned two foxbody Mustangs. Right now I am in the process of resto-modding a 1970 Camaro.
Here's where it really gets interesting. My dad, as you can tell from his choice of vehicles, has never really been a "car guy". He can't even wire up a three wire tach, much less do a restoration or serious engine work. My younger brother is just like my dad. Not a mechanical bone in his body. But, both of them now own muscle cars - mostly because I never stop talking about them! Several months ago my brother bought a 1970 Chevelle Malibu with a 350/TH350, and shortly afterwards my dad bought a 1969 Chevelle SS 396. They still aren't "car guys", and they still couldn't change a spark plug if their life depended on it, but thanks to my long love of these cars I've managed to make them see the light. They can't fix 'em, but they love driving them and feeling young again behind the wheel.
Sometimes fathers influence their sons, but in my case it was the other way around.