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I love Sexy Cars

I love Sexy Cars

 

I love to drive and I love cars. Beautiful, fast cars. Beautiful cars turn my head. More than a beautiful man. 

In many ways, my cars define me. My first car was a used 1961 brown Mercury Comet. No power steering. No air conditioning. My high school mascot, a bobble head Tiger, on the back shelf. That car was far from beautiful, and had no speed, but I loved my new found freedom.

My next car was a 1967 Pontiac LeMans convertible. White with black interior, flat in front and in back. Big huge engine. I loved that car. Wind in my hair, felt like a million bucks.  Looking forward to taking it back to school. But no. Too unsafe, Dad said. I got a hardtop sedan instead. I’m not complaining, I was lucky to have wheels, but there was no love for that car. A bad year, unattractive to say the least. Big front and small rear that slipped and slid all over the road. You had to put big bags of salt in the trunk to have a chance. Adding more salt to the wound was that there was no problem letting my younger twin brothers take the convertible to college. Apparently, safe enough for them.

Boyfriends are largely remembered for their cars. One had an old green VW bug whose floors had been eaten away. But it was the 60’s and that made him cool. Another bought a small Alfa Romeo Spider with his hard earned cash...the car was tons nicer and prettier than he was. Still another had a pale yellow Corvair convertible, which turned out to be massively unsafe and recalled. Just like him. I lusted after Albert Finney’s white and red Mercedes roadster in the movie Two For the Road with Audrey Hepburn. And then a friend bought a pale blue one. To die for. A gorgeous man in a gorgeous car. Admittedly, I was shallow. 

I love vintage car auctions. We go just to ogle. The cars are beautiful. I still remember the Bugatti with blue embroidered seats and built in writing table with a mirror just in case. The excitement and amazement watching two hedge fund guys fight over a pair of vintage headlights, letting their testosterone get the best of them and bidding the lights up to astronomical amounts. Or the red and white Ford Fairlane convertible, same vintage as my original Comet, which went for just about nothing and we still regret not buying.

We do own two vintage cars. My dream was to own that Mercedes roadster. The last model with the iconic flat front and back was 1989, and so I bought a pale blue one when I could afford it. Soft top and hard top. With the biggest engine, the 560 SL. It’s a gorgeous car. Heads turn when you drive it. But I am not driving it much, and so we are donating it to charity. 

My husband, though, is not giving away his 1966 white with turquoise interior Corvette Stingray, also with hard and soft tops. When he graduated from West Point in 1966, some in the graduating class used their cadet pay to buy new Corvettes at a local dealer. I think they cost about $3000 at the time. Black with turquoise interior. He sold it when he went to Vietnam in 1968. Years later, he bought another 1966 in remembrance of good times past. Imagine, then, the reality check when a pretty young girl, admiring his wheels, told him her Dad had one just like it. 

I still take great care purchasing a car. It’s about looks for sure. It’s even more important how it  drives. Test driving cars is an activity that can last for months before a decision is made. It’s how you feel driving it. I test drove the Tesla but am not prepared to think that much about where I am going to "fill it up." (I can't even handle New Jersey.) And its about colors too. Red makes you feel racy. Turns out gray doesn’t make me feel elegant. I saw the gold car in the movie Blindside and decided that worked. 

I don’t think I am going to love any new car like I love the vintage ones. No matter the year or the manufacturer, each model was unique and introduced with great fanfare and excitement. But Warren Buffett got a new Caddy, and is apparently loving it. Maybe there's hope for me. Maybe my next car will make me love it too. 

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