automobile addiction...

I don’t know how many of you know, but I would consider myself a car guy… in fact, typically the word obsessed could be thrown around in the same sentence as my name and cars. Going from an interest in classic cars, to import cars, back to classic cars has been a progression from childhood to present - a progression I'd like to take you through, thanks to the motivating conversation with my best friend Chris.

From my childhood, I fondly remember many Saturday mornings shared with my father out on the driveway of our home. It was there the standard Saturday ritual began – each car was washed, vacuumed, detailed and checked for regular maintenance. I can’t tell you how many mornings were spent crawling through the car, vacuum wand in hand, dad right there to teach me something new.

I can say without a doubt, that my father’s Saturday morning attention to detail and appreciation for the combination of steel and gasoline helped me to take the baby steps towards full blown automobile addiction.

As grade school years went by, a family friend’s 66 Ford Mustang loomed on the horizon as my first future car. Though, realities through high school proved that an import car – an Acura Integra from our neighbors – would fill the role as a safe and reliable mode of transportation. This import car, pictured, set forth a few years of understanding for turbo chargers, racing suspension systems, high compression engines, and of course… Fast and the Furious jokes.

When collegiate life became daily, I was exposed to the world of classic cars via a new friend at the time, Chris Pond – a classic car addict and future best friend. As I engaged conversation with him about my then import car addiction, he did the same with me about classic cars. Low and behold, he bought a Mazda Miata to modiy, and I bought a 68’ Ford Bronco to restore. Oh the influence of friends.

It’s now a few years later, the 68’ Bronco, pictured, has faded away into another owner’s hands, and I’m left with the addiction in a smoldering state. Teaching and all that it entails has made life busy and moments of relaxation even more imperative – thus squeezing cars nearly out of the picture.

Yet, my love for them, and my love for my future hot rod still are within me – smoldering now, with blazing in the sights of future. I’d love to see my 1928 Ford Model A Roadster, now in pieces inside of my garage, become complete in the next few years. I’d love to see the suspension I have planned, engine specially selected, and attention to detail my father taught me – come to form in a beautiful concoction of nostalgic steel.

So, here is a thank you to my father who first inspired an addiction, to a best friend who has fed the addiction, and to a future I yearn to never stop craving the aroma of gasoline.