As I reminisce about Father's Day, it not only gives me the chance to look back at my life in regards to influential people and my relationship with them when it comes to the automobile, but also how on Earth I ended up where I'm at with American classic cars. My Dad, who is now 81 years young, was an odd car buff of sorts. In the heyday of muscle cars in the 60's, he was the poster child for counter-culture automobiles. Throughout my adolescence of 18 years, he rarely owned an American car, save for a Jeep (that's me in my Mom's lap), a Chevy C-10, and an International Scout. Most of the time he dabbled in VW's, Saab's, Volvo's, and Subaru's. He loved their simplicity, good fuel economy,
and ruggedness. The C-10 would've been completely out of character, except it was the only rig he could buy in a half-ton configuration, with a small block V-8, and a heavy duty 3-speed manual transmission - for the sole purpose of hauling a camper that sat atop the truck bed. While my Dad did show me the basic ropes in regards to car care, like where to add engine oil, how to change a flat tire, and jump start a dead battery, I think he still wonders, even with all that foreign influence, how I ended up digging the cars he pretty much avoided and sometimes despised.
Don't get me wrong - I'm grateful my Dad educated me in numerous aspects about cars, but my love for classic Detroit iron came from father-like influences; like uncle's and next door neighbors. Our neighbor Lenny Stevens was probably the most anti-foreign crusader... and the greatest mentor. It all depends on how you look at it. Lenny was older than my Dad, but younger than my grandfather. He had a son that was barely 19 and was killed in Vietnam back in 1969. Lenny was also a dye-in-the-wool drag racer with a yen for going fast - really fast. He purchased new a 1967 Plymouth GTX optioned with the 426 Hemi engine and slowly over the years, he modified it for drag racing. Just before we moved out of the neighborhood in the summer of 1973, Lenny would often let me visit when he wasn't intently working on his GTX. He knew I loved that car. He may have taken pity on me since my Dad owned a string of grossly under-powered European vehicles, but he also mentioned I reminded him of his son. Lenny's wife, Laura made the best chocolate chip cookies I've tasted to date. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were a little rough around the edges, but they were the nicest people. I can remember when Lenny asked me to add some oil to the Hemi - I didn't know where to start as European vehicles were totally different. For starters, my Dad's V-dub's had their engines in the rear of the vehicle. Lenny took me to heart after he said,
"Jesus, kid - we've got to beat all that foreign junk out of you.
You're an American - you drive American horsepower... and lots of it.
End of story!"
That summer I started on my journey learning about engines - the basics mind you, as I was barely eleven years old. Another mentor was my Uncle Ray, except he was a hardcore Ford fan. You gotta give kudos to guy who drove a 429 cubic inch Torino daily in the summer and who's winter beater was an old 1960 Starliner that had a 406 cubic inch transplant. And while I didn't get up close and personal with either of my Uncle's rides, his greatest influence was taking me to car shows, cruise-in's, and drag races that were held at Englishtown Raceway. Because of that engaging at those events, I had a chance to
meet scores of people and check out the gamut of hot rods, street rods, and muscle cars. The same held true for drag racing, where fans could mingle with the race cars, the drivers, and pit crews in what was then called "thrashing grounds". Over the past 45 to 50 years, things haven't changed a whole lot in the hot rod community, except for that bump in the mid to late 80's when brand bashing was en vogue and the guys who owned Corvette's wanted to be in a league by themselves. Drag racing, however, has totally changed - you can't even think of mingling in the pits anymore, and you're dreaming if you think you could literally watch over the shoulders of some of the top dog drivers and mechanics. Sometimes the good 'ol days were a little better than today.
If you have the chance to pass along your passion - be it for old hot rods, or muscle cars, or nostalgic drag racing - do it. Take your kids (or your entire family) to a car show, a transportation museum, or some other antique auto event. Some people say,
"...it's never too late." I believe you only have so much time, especially when it comes to your kids. Time slips through our hands, kids grow up way too fast, and by the time they're between the ages of 15 and 17, they'll be trying to find their own way, in which you may become the "enemy" for a while. Besides - what better way to get them away from the TV, cell phone, computer games, and give them a chance to witness other vehicles, besides turbo Honda's with LED lights, that are the coolest thing since sliced bread.
Until next time, happy Father's Day and peace out.
Dave
As I reminisce about Father's Day, it not only gives me the chance to look back at my life in regards to influential people and my relationship with them when it comes to the automobile, but also how on Earth I ended up where I'm at with American classic cars. My Dad, who is now 81 years young, was an odd car buff of sorts. In the heyday of muscle cars in the 60's, he was the poster child for counter-culture automobiles. Throughout my adolescence of 18 years, he rarely owned an American car, save for a Jeep (that's me in my Mom's lap), a Chevy C-10, and an International Scout. Most of the time he dabbled in VW's, Saab's, Volvo's, and Subaru's. He loved their simplicity, good fuel economy, 
Don't get me wrong - I'm grateful my Dad educated me in numerous aspects about cars, but my love for classic Detroit iron came from father-like influences; like uncle's and next door neighbors. Our neighbor Lenny Stevens was probably the most anti-foreign crusader... and the greatest mentor. It all depends on how you look at it. Lenny was older than my Dad, but younger than my grandfather. He had a son that was barely 19 and was killed in Vietnam back in 1969. Lenny was also a dye-in-the-wool drag racer with a yen for going fast - really fast. He purchased new a 1967 Plymouth GTX optioned with the 426 Hemi engine and slowly over the years, he modified it for drag racing. Just before we moved out of the neighborhood in the summer of 1973, Lenny would often let me visit when he wasn't intently working on his GTX. He knew I loved that car. He may have taken pity on me since my Dad owned a string of grossly under-powered European vehicles, but he also mentioned I reminded him of his son. Lenny's wife, Laura made the best chocolate chip cookies I've tasted to date. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were a little rough around the edges, but they were the nicest people. I can remember when Lenny asked me to add some oil to the Hemi - I didn't know where to start as European vehicles were totally different. For starters, my Dad's V-dub's had their engines in the rear of the vehicle. Lenny took me to heart after he said, "Jesus, kid - we've got to beat all that foreign junk out of you.
You're an American - you drive American horsepower... and lots of it.
End of story!"
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