Once I exited my car, I began a reconnaissance of the perimeter. Wow. The cars to
my left and the cars to my right looked as though they were transported via H.G. Wells'
Time Machine. Don't get me wrong, I would love to own anyone of them. No, I take that
back, I would love to "drive" anyone of them. My goodness, we have a little charity
car show and look at what shows up. I was not embarrassed by my entry in this
particular show. I mean, after all, it was all for charity. But, I have learned
that although I "drive" a classic car, the folks who willingly allow their cars to
be judged are of a different breed than I.I suppose my expectations were a tad high. I mean, I "drive" a classic car, so to me, conventional wisdom would dictate that anyone registered at the show would embrace me. Well, they did not. However, some folks who had the most "serious" entries were the most positive. For instance, the owner of a perfect 1967 Shelby GT500 wandered by my stall. I easily recognized him as I drooled when he pulled that Mustang in. He glanced at my entry and I said, "You think I'll win the Best of Class trophy!" He smiled and said, "Hell, if you don't win, you can have one of my trophies." He slapped his hand on my miss-aligned hood and commented that it's all about just owning any of these classics. Needless to say, I did not win my class. However, I did receive a really cool metallic sticker signifying that I participated in this car show. I attached it under my trunk lid next to the jack instructions. I plan to attach many more.  |
Each month My Daily Driver publishes articles regarding these old cars we drive.
| "No, I take that back, I would love to "drive" anyone of them." |
