I have a theory about Car People. I believe a predilection for cars is innate.
For the record, I’m not talking about the guy who insists he will “only drive BMWs. I get a new one every 2 years.” I’m also not talking about the dude who’s had sex with over 700 vehicles. These freaks folks may think they’re Car People, but they’re not. They don’t crank their heads when they encounter the art of a rare 1967 Toyota 2000GT. They don’t get all warm and fuzzy at the sight of a 1956 Pontiac Star Chief Catalina 4-door. No – just because someone likes a particular automobile does not a Car Person make.
I was well into my adult years before I realized I’m a Car Person. Looking back, I can see the childhood moments that should have told me sooner. As a small kid, hanging out at Little Papa’s filling station, I loved looking at the cars being worked on. Some sported beautiful fins. Others were rougher. At 13 I was so smitten with a car I cried over it. My first car was a 1968 Chrysler Newport. Presently, I drive a 1966 Volvo 122S.
My affinity for cars isn’t practical, nor does it make any sense. However, I have come to believe it’s cellular (and therefore not my fault). I arrived at this theory after watching other folks respond to my own car. For over a decade now, I’ve been eyeing people as they move through crosswalks while I sit idling at red lights. Most people make their way and don’t notice my old car. But there are always a few who do notice. I’ve watched senior citizens stop and stare. I’ve seen a horde of high-schoolers pass in front of me, unaware of my car. Except for 1 or 2 who will slow their pace just to study the old gal (the car – not me). I’ve seen the same behavior in grade school kids. And y’all – I’ve even witnessed toddlers in strollers, craning their necks as they pass, transfixed by the unique Volvo before them.
After years of these observations, I am quite certain Car People simply are or aren’t. There’s nothing to be done about it, either, so for those of us who are so afflicted, we might as well embrace our love of cars and get on with it. Maybe go to an auction once in a while – for entertainment. Maybe hit an auto show when we hear of one. Maybe head over to Bob’s Big Boy in Toluca Lake on a Friday night, to walk around and admire the autos. One needn’t be a collector, just because one is a Car Person. There are ways to get that fix.
And I tell you now – it’s pretty danged cool to see a tot desperate to check out an old car. I don’t know why, but it sort of gives me hope for the future. A future built on beautiful fins and glorious curves of the past.