It Doesn't Have To Be Mint

I was photographing a car show Friday night and struck up a conversation with a guy from North Carolina who was visiting our area. He had a nicely restored, bright yellow Studebaker pickup that also had some custom touches. For example, I liked the custom speedometer that was in the dash. It was about five inches in diameter with the numbers going clockwise from 0 to 90. The final spot on the speedo normally where 100 would be, was instead the word "zoom". Very cool. But the one aspect about the truck I liked the most (and what I took the most pictures of), was the mostly original engine with it's surface rust, patina, and somewhat faded decals. The owner quickly apologized for not having the time to detail out the engine. As we continued to talk, I told him it was the current condition of the real estate under the hood that captured my interest. To me, that engine told more stories than the rest of the truck put together. He was totally cool with where I was coming from and even thanked me for the different perspective. I, in turn, thanked him for letting me photograph his truck.

I can say, without equivocation, at every car show or event I photograph, I am told almost the exact same thing that the owner of the Studebaker to me, by countless owners of vintage Detroit iron, that one or more particular aspects of their ride is not finished - and they're apologizing for it. The first thing I do is tell each and every one of them not to apologize. The next thing that runs through my mind, but stops at the filter in my mouth is, "Why are you apologizing?" The way I see it, it's your rig. You put the blood, sweat, and tears in owning, modifying, restoring, or whatever you do with it. Even if you stroked a check and purchased a finished ride, it's still your money and your ride. I can remember when I was restoring / modifying an antique Chevy pickup. When it came time to paint it, everyone and their brother told me what color I should paint it. Even after I told them the color scheme I was going lay down, they still told me, "no dude - you need to do it this other way." In the end, I still painted the truck the way I wanted to. Were any of these people who told me different in the body shop for the nine months it took to finish the paint and body work? Nope. My truck, my money, my way.

I gotta admit - that's one thing I still love about car shows, hot rodding in general, and even vintage drag racing. I love the individuality. I love the fact that today's car builders, regardless of who they are - be it the well known builders who's rides are featured in major magazines, or the average Joe or Mary who's building and welding in their garage and don't have access to a lift, or $30,000 in tools, but use their creative talents instead - continue to produce mind-blowing results and new ideas. Even if I don't gel with the finished product, I can still truly appreciate and totally respect the finished work. Ditto with old-school drag racing. Less rules, more fun. Creative experimentation, I like to call it. And if someone totally digs your ride, or hates on it, it doesn't matter. You did the hard part - if you like the outcome, that's all that matters.

Until next time, more empathy and less hating,
Dave