Yesterday afternoon was perfect. Sunny, mid-70s — a beautiful fall day. So I scratched an itch I’d been having and indulged myself by meeting up with my other love — classic cars.
There’s nothing quite like walking around looking at beautiful cars. There’s something for everybody. (In the case of my daughter and her cousin, it’s funnel cake and burgers. I can only hope she’ll pick up some of my family’s car obsession by osmosis.)
I gravitate toward mid-’60s Ford Mustang convertibles and late-’50s Chevrolet trucks, especially the step-sides. There was a bright red one there yesterday I would have bought on the spot if I had any money to spend.
One of my three big brothers was with me, and they all have a near-encyclopedic knowledge of cars. So I found myself being quizzed about what year a Camaro was based on whether it had a vent window and what year a Bel-Air was based on whether it had fins and the shape of its tail lights. I may have learned a thing or two, but I’m sure I forgot it all by the time I got back to my own boring Explorer. Why learn all that stuff when I can just ask one of them?
There’s only one Cruise-In left for the year. Here’s hoping Nov. 12 will be another beautiful day!