I will openly admit that - I am not normal. Here's why... or possibly why not. This evening the New England Patriots will play the Eagles of Philadelphia in the Super Bowl. Some friends of ours that my wife and I visited last night will be all fired up in front of their large screen TV. My wife and I will not. I will have more than enough friends who will be commenting and providing updates on Facebook. More than likely, I will just scroll on by, if I'm on any type of social media at all after 6:30pm. This will be the 8th time (I believe) in the past 15 years the Pats will be a part of the big game. They've won it 5 times in the past 15 years as well. In that same time span, the Red Sox have won the world series three times, the Bruins have brought home the Stanley Cup once and the Celtics have also won an NBA championship. In all honestly, New England is a great area to be a sports fan. In my head however - big deal. So why don't I care? Thinking about it a little more, I feel that term might be a bit harsh. Am I glad the local professional football team is in the Super Bowl and do I hope they win the game? Sure I do. Will I watch the game, the humorous commercials, the over-hyped half time show? No. Will I be depressed (or even bummed out) if the Pats lose? Not by a long shot.
Ever since I was a kid, I've never been into sports. While the other kids were on the playground trading baseball or football cards, I was trading Fleer drag racing cards with a select few (and I mean few) kids who followed the nitro religion. While my classmates followed Joe Namath and Roger Staubach, I was following the likes of Ronnie Sox, Bill Jenkins, and Don Nicholson. When others were quoting acronyms like NFL, MLB, or NBA, I had the NHRA and AHRA floating around in my gray matter. Because of my somewhat-distant affiliation with drag racing, I would occasionally be asked the question,
"You don't like football or baseball - what's the matter with you?" However, all that went away when either my cousin would pick me up in his 1968 GTO, or our good neighbor Len (who took me under his wing performance wise when I was that awkward kid) swung by in his obnoxious tunnel-ram Camaro. For a brief moment, those kids might have thought that they should be grooving on hot cars and not some sport that involved a ball. And the one or two kids that didn't shut up right away, when my neighbor did a hellacious burnout in front of them with me in the front passenger seat, that usually did the trick. I would be smiling from ear to ear and Len would say,
"Look kid - don't tell your folks I did that, okay?" He always said that after he lit up the rear tires when I was with him. And to this date, I've never told them about it.
As I grew older, obtained a drivers license, and even after I got married, rear wheel drive muscle cars and hot rods still were the order of the day when everyone else was driving front-wheel drive sedans and - heaven help us - minivans. I can remember bringing home my wife and our first daughter home from the hospital in our blue 1971 Dodge Charger R/T. That car was big, safe, and heavy. The modified engine also had it's benefits, although gas mileage certainly wasn't one of them. The radical idle from aftermarket cam that was in it, rocked our baby girl to sleep I don't know how many times. As always, we had a back-up plan as most hot rodders do. If the weather was going to be dicey, we had a beat-up early '70's 4-wheel drive Bronco that pretty much plowed through anything.
However, we all age - we don't get old; but we do age. The good part is, the abnormality doesn't go away. It may change a bit, but it stays with us through the years. To date, I've gotten muscle cars out of my system as well as trucks. I've even owned a "modern musclecar" with fuel injection. And yes, every once in a while I long for all those rides, including the '87 5.0 Mustang. Now, I'm jonesing for something a lot older; like a late '20's / early '30's Ford street rod, preferably with a blower on top. Maybe I am becoming an old fart. Even my old neighbor Len who used to occasionally pick me up from school mellowed out over the years. The picture below is from the mid to late '70's of his 1968 Camaro he purchased after he sold the tunnel-ram ride. He mentioned he was becoming more practical in his old age. That Camaro had a modified LT-1 350 small block between the fenders. Sure it had 425 horsepower, but then again, that was slowing down and being more practical for Len. That's his wife Rita leaning on the fender.
Until next time, peace out and keep the faith.
Dave
I will openly admit that - I am not normal. Here's why... or possibly why not. This evening the New England Patriots will play the Eagles of Philadelphia in the Super Bowl. Some friends of ours that my wife and I visited last night will be all fired up in front of their large screen TV. My wife and I will not. I will have more than enough friends who will be commenting and providing updates on Facebook. More than likely, I will just scroll on by, if I'm on any type of social media at all after 6:30pm. This will be the 8th time (I believe) in the past 15 years the Pats will be a part of the big game. They've won it 5 times in the past 15 years as well. In that same time span, the Red Sox have won the world series three times, the Bruins have brought home the Stanley Cup once and the Celtics have also won an NBA championship. In all honestly, New England is a great area to be a sports fan. In my head however - big deal. So why don't I care? Thinking about it a little more, I feel that term might be a bit harsh. Am I glad the local professional football team is in the Super Bowl and do I hope they win the game? Sure I do. Will I watch the game, the humorous commercials, the over-hyped half time show? No. Will I be depressed (or even bummed out) if the Pats lose? Not by a long shot.
As I grew older, obtained a drivers license, and even after I got married, rear wheel drive muscle cars and hot rods still were the order of the day when everyone else was driving front-wheel drive sedans and - heaven help us - minivans. I can remember bringing home my wife and our first daughter home from the hospital in our blue 1971 Dodge Charger R/T. That car was big, safe, and heavy. The modified engine also had it's benefits, although gas mileage certainly wasn't one of them. The radical idle from aftermarket cam that was in it, rocked our baby girl to sleep I don't know how many times. As always, we had a back-up plan as most hot rodders do. If the weather was going to be dicey, we had a beat-up early '70's 4-wheel drive Bronco that pretty much plowed through anything. 
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