That’s my lawyer’s kid, exiting a McLaren F1. I’ve not heard if young Master Gleason pronounced “How sweet it is!” whilst exiting the seminal supercar. Or if this “boy meets Big Mac” moment will inspire Hayden to follow his dad down the road to riches, singing Mack the Knife every step of the way. But I do know the first time I fell in love with a four-wheeled object: the day my father took me a for an inaugural ride in his Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3. Dad owned a lot of dirty sexy cars leading-up to this German beast—including a black Olds Rocket 88 and white Ford Thunderbird (whose electric roof froze in an obscenely horizontal position on sports day). But the big Benz’ rumble and MASSIVE acceleration began a lifelong love of all things automotive. I remember a journey from Little Compton to Logan airport in the 6.3, when one of my friends was late for a flight. The speedo touched 100 mph— and stayed there for over an hour. Cars zipped backwards as if pulled by the hand of God while my friend slept comfortably in the back. We arrived with plenty of time. So, how did your automotive passion begin?
When I was a kid of about 4, I watched from the window of our 2nd floor apartment, Hudson Hornets drive by. I was marked by the shapes of those cars. I still have one I bought in 1972.
When I was 10, my father took me to the Gloversville, NY, auto show, where I saw a 1957 Chrysler for the first time. That car blew me away, and still does. I had a number fo them over the years, but I don’t have one now. They were so poorly constructed that they all disappeared decades ago.
Bob
In my case, we were living in a new apartment in a big city, and neither we nor our neighbors had a car at the time, but I was first introduced to auto mags and supercars of the time by the kid of our neighbor, a year younger than me. Both of us were only children, BTW. And there was an automag at the time (not in english) whose premier issue had a comparison test of the Rolls Royce Silver Shadow vs, surprisingly, not the Merc 600 (the ‘short” but still gigantic and overengineered hand-made car) but your same 300 SEL 6.3! The MErc won, but I really liked the Rolls’s styling and used to draw 3-d drawings of the SShadow and previous rollses whenever I got bored at school.
I think the car which I first fell for, was a new late 1950’s Studebaker Hawk in the parking lot of my sister’s school in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Which means I had to be about 3 years old and she, 7. No older than age 4, and my sister 8.
The car which I really fell for and still pine for (and cannot have since there are about 3 running, one of which is in private – Jay Leno’s – hands) is the 1963 Chrysler Turbine Car.
But the Studie has to be first.
Funny enough, until you posted this, I hadn’t realized that. Until asked, it hadn’t percolated to the top of my consciousness.
No wonder I have a photo of a beautiful 1964 Studebaker Gran Turismo Hawk in my cubicle. Black. Red interior. Supercharger. Warner T-10 four speed. Front power disc brakes. Power steering. Twin-Traction.
Alas I’ll never probably have one due to “budget-itis”.
In 1994 at Puente Hills Mazda, my parents were talking to a salesman about leasing a then-new Mazda MPV, which we have to this day. I was in 4th grade, curious about cars. There was a sleek black RX7 parked on a tilted stand in the showroom. I distinctly remembered I never saw these cars and it wasn’t the same car as the ones with the tiny chrome door handles (miatas). Sort of half-dream about owning one ever since.
I remember watching the Cannonball Run and I was just in awe of the Lamborghini Countach.
Speaking of the countach, I saw a few minutes of “Rainman” last night on TV, had not seen it for decades, and its opening sequence would warm the heart of any automaniac, with a whole BUNCH of impressive looking Countachs unloaded, in a primitive, old-fashioned way, from a ship that carried them.
Dino 246GT
When did it start? I dunno…there are pictures of me driving my dinner plate when I was 2. But my uncles always had cool cars…’68 Mustang, ’71 (?) SCJ Mustang, ’73 240Z, ’65 Galaxie 500 convertible, ’77 Scirocco…
As someone a bit younger, the first car that blew me away was my grandfather’s 84 Mustang SVO. It may be rather mundane by comparison but it was very sleek and fast (to a 3-year old). Of course, it was only bested a few years later by my dad’s first Taurus (MTX5) and later an 89 SHO (my mom had a 90 Sable as well).
Of course, Ferraris and Lambos were seen and drooled over due to their crazy wedge shapes. But, those early Aero-Fords captured my eyes over the boxy chrome-ladened midsize and fullsize domestics in Baton Rouge and later, Houston.
And then there were the Matchbox cars. Ironically, I’ve held on to two from my single-digit years: white 87 Sable wagon and blue 84 Volvo 760. Little did I know, I’d end up with a full-scale model of the same Volvo.
My neighbor’s 300ZX. The one from the mid-1980s. I was amazed that you had to SHIFT THE GEARS YOURSELF! How incredible.
Before that, it had to be the DeLorean from the Back to the Future movies. I always thought that car was cool when I was a kid.
’72 Mustang Mach 1. Red.
I was in fourth grade, nine years old or so. We had to do some cut-and-paste project (with real scissors and paste!) and I found a magazine ad for a computer. The headline read “where we got the idea something small could be powerful” and underneath was an early eighties Porsche 911 SC, guards red.
I’m sure the other side of the page said something about the product for sale, but I never got that far. I cut out the page and tacked it to my wall. It remained there until I moved out at 18, eventually surrounded by 4 walls of car posters.
I still lust after those clean, simple 911 SCs. The closest I’ve come to owning one is a 914 with serious battery box rust. Maybe some day.
For me, it was the ’70 yellow Plymouth Barracuda convertible owned by my Dad’s friend until it rusted into nothingness. Joe Mannix drove the same car, in green.
Farago, wasn’t Rocket 88 an Oldsmobile moniker, not Buick?
My first car memories were from the late 60’s (I was 4-5 years old.) My Dad would take me to the Mercedes-Benz dealer and I was mesmerized by the “collapsible” hood ornament.
Early 80s, I saw an ad in a magazine for a car that spoke to you when it needed its oil changed. I think it was a Datsun 280zx. This was back in the days that I used to comb through Heathkit catalogs for HERO robots.
The next car that blew me away was the Jaguar XJ220 a few years later. I still think that aside from the Ford GT and GT40, it’s the best looking car ever built.
It was 1965. Our family car was a big Pontiac Strato Chief. But then some friends of ours, a family of 5 came to visit. The entire family came in a Mini Cooper.
My friend’s college student brother’s 1948 MG TC in cream with red leather.
It is an Olds Rocket. Buick had straight eights until 1954.
E21 mid/late seventies BMW 3-series in all black, ’73 240Z, later the ’79 280ZX and later still the early ’80s GTI and that bright red ’84 300ZX turbo.
It happened when my brother and I both fit into the cubby under the rear window of my Dad’s 62 Beetle. It was exceptionally unsafe, but lots of fun sitting right above the engine.
Easy… being a kid visiting my grandparents in Florida and driving (tightly wedged) in the “back seat” of a Fiat 124 Spider owned by the family next door.
No wonder that my first “new” car was a miata in 1989. Something about a red convertible with a 1.6 liter DOHC engine and a tiny little shifter. Unfortunately the dash in the Miata didn’t quite match up to the flat wooden one in the Fiat. But then again, it’s 20 years old now, with no rust and it starts every time…
My earliest memory is from inside a car. My father is a dyed-in-the-wool car guy, and I think I inherited this gene directly. Like him my attraction has never been centered or even started with one particular car or even type of car. I have a list of cars that have insinuated themselves into my driving DNA and changed the way I look at all things automotive:
* Seeing my dad drive home in a brand new MG B roadster on a sunny Spring day when I was about 5 or 6 years old.
* Attending a car show about the same time. It was a rainy day and held in a parking lot, but in attendance were virtually every Duesenberg still in existence and running at that time (late 60s). That day reinforced the strong feeling I have that cars, while beautiful to behold, are NOT delicate flowers that have to be coddled and only rolled out of trailers and onto grass. They are to be touched, used, seen and DRIVEN.
* Drooling over Lancias, TVRs, and other unobtainable exotica in my dad’s buff books.
* Being tossed the keys of my mom’s 1980 VW Diesel when I was a college sophomore (82-83). The ultimate student car in an age of high-priced gasoline, and cheap Diesel fuel. This car had me driving on road trips all over the west with 50+ MPG on .60¢ a gallon fuel. It also taught me that it is true that there is great joy to be had driving a slow car fast.
–chuck
In 1955, when I was 8, my father brought home a 1955 Chevrolet Bel-Air convertible in cream and red two tone, he put the top down and took us cruising to the ice cream stand.
59 Plymouth-fins.My dad used one as a Highway Patrol car.Forget about video games-words simply cannot describe what it’s like to be in a high speed chase in one of these finned monsters when you’re 5 years old.
Yup they did that kind of thing in 1959-it’s in my permanent memory mental hard drive.
http://www.mystarcollectorcar.com/
1967 Camaro that Darren Stevens had on bewitched. I thought it was absolutely cool at age 8 and I asked Dad if we could get one, that didn’t happen. Years later I finally got a 1968 and it seems wanting one was much better than owning one. It was a plain model with a 327 that needed sway bars, 4bbl, hurst shifter. It was kinda fast but didn’t blow me away. My 1988 Camaro V6 was quieter, handled better, didn’t have heat from engine coming into passenger compartment, etc.
I had no interest in cars of any sort until a friend dragged me to my first F1 race in Indy. Those things are SERIOUSLY amazing and really re-define the word “CAR”
Ferrari F40. Maybe it was that color of red they used, the huge spoiler, or that slotted rear window…but I still remember seeing one at a car show and I used up a lot of film getting all angles of it.
However of cars I actually was driven in when I was a wee little pup still getting interested in cars, and don’t laugh…but I was blown away at the sheer volume of buttons and flashing things of a friend’s mom’s brand new Aerostar. This thing had more displays and buttons than anything from Star Trek.
Now I look back at that and shudder but back in the mid-80’s, that was good stuff!
That’s an easy one… The full-size 1967 Pontiacs. As a (preteen) connoisseur of car styling, I was already a big fan of the 1965-66’s (my family then owned two ’65 Bonnevilles: a convertible and an air-conditioned Safari wagon), but the front end of those ’67s was radical, elegant, less baroque and thereby modern – and with “hiding” windshield wipers too. (Plus there was the wink to Pontiac fans who could easily see the resemblance between the front of the ’67s and the rear of the ’66s.) Soon we owned one ourselves, a three-seat Executive wagon.
I have so many of these memories that it is tough to pick one. I can recall how fun it was at 2 or 3 to sit in the bottom half of the steering wheel of Mom’s 61 Olds F-85. A guy could get quite a carnival ride out of swinging from side to side in that wheel.
I recall every single car of my kindergarden carpool in 1964-65. Mom’s 64 Cutlass hardtop was the most boring (although with that 330 V8 with the 4 barrel, she would occasionally dust off some obnoxious teenager at a stoplight). I liked Mrs. Young’s metallic lavender 58 Ford (except for the color) and Mrs. Mejer’s copper 59 Chevy wagon. I liked Mrs. Colchin’s white 59 Studebaker Lark, but the day she got her husband’s metallic red 64 Avanti R2 (the supercharged one with the 4 speed), I was hooked for good.
But my favorite was Grandma’s pink and white 55 Desoto Firedome sedan. The only car I had ever seen with the gear shift sticking straignt out of the dash. And the pushbutton trunk button you did not need a key for (and even if you did, she always kept the key over the visor). And I didn’t even know at the time that it had a hemi!
I was 6 years old, when a guest arrived at our home driving a new Maserati Merak. It was 1974, and I remember being completely rattled by the experience. I stared at that car for over an hour and took several pictures (still have them).
3 times come to mind:
1) Riding in my cousin’s 1965 Mustang GT 2+2 home from our cabin near Carlisle, PA. The free-revving 289 was a revelation to a 6 year old.
2) 1978, my first ride in a 1970 LS6 Chevelle SS454. Back when it was just a used car that drank gas. Probably the most brutal acceleration I had ever experienced.
3) 1990, first ride in a 1959 Alfa Giulietta Sprint. I’ve never before had more fun with 1300 CC’s. Delicate, like a scalpel for the road.
That’s easy. I still remember seeing my first E type Jaguar in suburban Montreal in the early 60’s. I was about 13 at the time and I still remember staring at it for many minutes and wanting to run my hands over it (which I didn’t).
My uncle’s ’55 Jaguar XK140. First car I rode in with a tachometer. I asked him what it was for, and he explained that the engine blows up if you run it in the red for too long. He then proceeded to accelerate in a low gear and put it in the red… Anxious moments for a seven year old.
Call me a geek, but… the Aptera 2e ;)
My uncle’s maroon Jaguar XKE. I was a little kid then (5? 6?) and when he bought it, he took us all out for a ride, 1 at a time on the 2-lane roads that were near his house.
The leather, the dash board with all of the switches and a nice sunny day with the top down.
Thanks for asking, I hadn’t thought about this in many, many years.
Not sure what age I was. 6 or 7. Leaving Mosport after a race, we were in a parking area shared with not one, but two, Ferrari Daytonas. One red and one yellow. (Yes, there was a time when people drove these.) Hearing them come to life simultaneously…there are no words. We ended up behind the yellow one at a stop sign. As soon as the coast was clear, he matted it and stayed on it until he disappeared over the horizon (but you could still hear it). Someday I am going to buy one…somehow, some way.
For me, it was 1974, I was 8 years old and playing at a friends house on the other side of town. His neighbor drove up in a Lotus Europa TC. I was awe struck as was my friend. We both left drool streaks down the windows. To this day I still lust for one or all things Lotus. One day…….
It was 1974 and my father’s friend pulled up to our house in a cream yellow 1973 Jaguar XKE 12 cylinder roadster. I was in love/lust at 13 years old. A few years later, the owner put the E-Type up for sale for $7000. I begged and pleaded but was denied the chance to offer my life-long servitude in exchange for a loan. Fast forward a couple of years when a high school friend’s parents had the same car in a deep dark brown. My friend foolishly offered to teach me how to drive a manual on it.
He said it never drove the same after that.
I was 5-6 when I first saw a picture of a Lambo Countach. I thought wow, that is quite a man made wonder. My dad bought me a Countach RC without knowing anything …ask (god) and you shall receive.
My dads 84 Celica around the same time also blew me away with its Power windows, A/C, hatchback, sound system, middle glass mounted wing, red paint with matching rims, low ride (trouble getting it up the driveway), pop up lights and sunroof, oh and those window bolt on vent things. Wow I loved it. I brought all my friends to see the windows go up and down. This was in 1991 in the Dominican. It sure beat the old Datsun, which was cool too. The 85 Supra was awesome also, could not afford it though.
There were three cars, and three distinct stages:
The first was definitely the Countach, but that was based on looks alone. I credit it with being the first spark to fly off the flint of my nascent carguydom, though. What kind of world was it out there that had objects such as this in it? The familiar word “car” and the mental image it evoked were shattered the first time I saw a photo of a Countach. In a world of K cars suddenly there was this.
The second was when I began to understand performance. A short series of unexciting company cars in the garage gave way to an ’87 Thunderbird Turbo Coupe. The look [in dark grey with those two hood scoops] grabbed me, but I could now feel the difference between this and normal cars. That look I liked so much picking me up at little league practice was connected to a car being more fun.
Then, in 1989, it all came together when I sat in a Z32 Nissan 300ZX at the New York Auto Show. I adjusted the seat, put my hands on the wheel (I was enthralled by those button pods they put just behind the wheel) and thought: ‘My God, I could drive one of these.’
It was no longer just that beautiful, exciting cars were out there, or that they were capable of thrills apart from their looks; it was that I could actually be the one driving these amazing machines, I was getting close to age where that was a possibility. After that epiphany, it was pretty much all I wanted to do.
Although both the term “blown away” didn’t exist at the time, and I would have been way too young to understand the concept; that selfsame moment still exists in my memory as my oldest memory ever:
It’s the summer is 1953 and dad comes home for lunch from his Chevy dealership driving a brand new Corvette. He gave me a ride in it, then back to work, where he traded it to Grabiak in New Alexandria for two BelAir hardtops.
Of such things is a lifelong passion built.
I found the car sixteen years later, sitting in a garage six blocks from the family home – rotting away forgotten. The owner absolutely refused to sell – it was her late son’s.
I got the bug straight from both my Dad and Granddad (on my Mom’s side). While my Granddad had all sorts of good stuff starting with a ’49 Rocket 88, black, of course, and various Chryslers in the 50’s and 60’s, it was the … uhhh … “test drive” my Dad took me on back in ’63 when he was looking to buy a new car to replace the ’57 Chieftain that just sealed the deal in my mind. We wandered into the local Pontiac dealer, and my Dad asked if they had a ’63 2-door Catalina with a 421 and a 4-speed. Being an 11 year old, that sounded pretty cool. Well, they did. A 2-door post car. Long curved Hurst shifter with a huge white ball on it. Pretty much a stripper from what I remember. Baby Blue. The sales guy tossed my Dad the keys and off we went. Ever try to hang onto the vinyl seat when you Dad is nailing a 330 hp, 3700 pound beast through 1st and 2nd? If I didn’t have the bug full bore before then, I did after that ride.
Unfortunately, my Mom made us settle for a 4-door Bonneville with the 389. However, my Dad did insist we order the optional gages and tachometer!! And, to this day, I have to wonder if that car wasn’t maybe one of those rare swiss cheese frame, aluminum front end cars with a real 421 SD making 405hp that was used exclusively for drag racing. I guess I’ll never know …… but I do know that ride absolutely blew me away.
Circa 1980 my friend’s mom had a Jaguar XJ6 (Series III?). She often gave us rides wherever we needed to go. I couldn’t get over the silent, creamy ride or the leather. At the time **my** mom had a, first, a Ford Gran Torino (a bomb shelter on wheels, clearly) then a POS Mustang. So, riding in the Jaguar was like going to the Moon.
I remember taking my niece, Beth, to an acura dealer when she was 4 or 5, and she immediately jumped into the NSX. She’s not a car nut though. As for me, I loved the ’64 Chevy lineup when it came out when I was 11; especially the Chevrolet and Chevelle. I still get wonderful nostalgia from those cars, but I have more for Peugeot 404s these days. I remember loving the ’60 Valiant when it came out. These feelings were based entirely on aesthetics.
I was 10 yrs old and my grandfather pulled up in his brand new 1959 DeSoto.
I have yet to recover….
I was never struck by one particular car. Instead, my obsession with cars began with the understanding that my parents had the crappiest vehicles out of anyone we knew. What started out as envy for other people’s cars led to my noticing of every detail of everything on the road. Whether it was the power window switch or the alloy wheels, I became obsessed with the things that made our Fairmont and Voyager and Nova and Saturn SL the envy of nobody.
1987 Porsche 959 stuffed in into what Porsche laughably described as the rear seat.
1969 silver Mercedes SWB 600. Next door neighbor went temporarily insane and blew the then god-awful amount of $28,000 to buy one. Took it out onto Highway 1 one day and opened the taps. 121 MPH, with all the neighborhood kids in back. The airhorn tucked up under the right fender came off a train. Seriously.
My friend’s dad had an early ’70s maroon Cadillac Eldorado convertible with a white leather interior. I can still remember the two of us riding in the back with the top down on the way to the horse track. Good times indeed!
In the early 1950s my cousin had a boyfriend with an M.G. TC with spindly wire wheels and bucket seats. I used to love sitting in it twisting the steering wheel and going “brrrm-brrrm.” It was the first car I’d seen with a rev counter.
He sold it to buy her a diamond ring. I might have been only six years old, but I had more sense than him. “You’re crazy,” I said. The marriage didn’t last.
I’ve never heard of a Buick Rocket 88, was that some special production run?
The first car that blew me away – in the sense that I literally thought about how awesome it must be to drive at least once a day – Ferrari F40.
The first time I realized that I was definitely a car nut – when my grandfather took me into his garage at the age of 5 and showed me his old toys – a ’61 Morgan Plus 4 and yellow Volvo P1800 ES.
The first time I realized that cool cars were accessible to normal people – the day my old man brought home our new, black ’86 Jetta GLI. That car was the bomb next to our neighbors’ Parisiennes, Accords and Camrys.
My partner’s 2008 Murcielago
Had E-Gear…great drive, great sound.
Jaguar XKE’s, roadsters, coupes even the 2+2. First saw them around town when I was 9 in ’63. Thought they were the prettiest cars on the planet. Still think they are among the most stylish sports cars ever built.
Our neighbour’s 1959 Coupe DeVille – pink and black and white, with a white interior. She could cram 7 or 8 kids into that thing. It was beautiful to a 3 or 4 year old. The fins, the chrome, oh it brings back memories everytime I see a survivor.
A supercharged Studebaker Golden Hawk (’57 or ’58) that roared up to us while my dad was driving down the 401 in Ontario. The look (it was a gold colour) and the sound of that thing was absolutely mesmerizing to me at all of 7 or 8 years old. I remember my dad admiring it and telling us all about Packard engines.
Our english neighbour’s ’63 E Type coupe. She would cram my brother and I and her two kids into that thing, three of us sitting in the hatch area!
To this day the most stunning car I’ve ever seen. It was the start of my love affair with those Jags – and then I bought and tried to run one of them when I was a teen. That nightmare cured me of the lust to own one, but I still think they’re the design pinnacle of British cars.
My Uncle Jack’s ’62 Galaxie convertible. The car that’s responsible for my love of open air driving. Man oh man, he’d pile 5 or 6 kids into that car, top down, racing around Montreal at ridiculous speeds, no seat belts, some of us hanging off the sides and back of that car – it was magical.
I look back 50 years ago, and wonder how we kids survived – no seat belts, no nanny state safety impositions, it was a splendid time to be a kid. Detroit in it’s heyday, TV in it’s infancy, only 6 NHL teams, no OPEC; we felt safe and secure, and believed that Detroit made the best cars in the world.
in no particular order. 1933 Pierce silver Arrow. A 39 Buick coupe, 47 Caddy sedanette, 47 GMC pickup, 54 Chevy Suburban, 72 BMW 3.0 CSL.
Like many kids growing up in the late 70s/early 80s the Lamborghini Countach was a real eye opener. Finally a car that looked like the cars I drew on my school notebooks. Wings, flaps, intakes, huge wheels, tiny windows… more spaceship then mere auto.
I remember a friends mother who had a 280Z, any day she picked us up from baseball practice it was a special day. Long, lean and quick.
Next came the Merkur XR4Ti, it was like nothing else on the road at the time – European, turbo charged and bi-winged.
After that was a (of all things) a Chevy Beretta. A buddy owned one in high school. I remember the ads describing the car as a shark – it was sleek with the door handles in the window frame, wrap-around tail lamps and other high-tech looking styling cues including an all digital dash setup that looked like it came out KITT (Knight Rider).
John B, andyinsdca, zznalg, mtymsi, Monty… if you ever find yourself in the Pacific Northwest on a nice day, look me up. I’ll happily provide you some wheel time in a Series 1 E-type. Everyone who loves them should drive one at least once in their lives.
–chuck
For me it was when I first saw an Alpine poster featuring the Countach.
I couldn’t get enough exotic car stories in R&T after that!
Hello all!
The very 1st car that “blew me away” was my uncle’s brand-new ’63 Chevy Impala SS409.
I was 11 years old, my dad was driving, Uncle sitting in the passenger seat giving driving commands.
60 mph, and I hear..”Punch it, Bob!”, and I bang my head on that rear seatback-mounted speaker, and we smell rubber burning from off the tires(admittedly damn narrow back then).
Last month on a trip to Chicago, I had a ’62 SS409 pass me in the other lane, looked stock but the ground shook. I still have a thing for those old Impalas.
I was visiting relatives in England and got drawn to the Motor Show at Earl’s Court in 1973. I was 20 and had driven lots of Holdens, Falcons and Morris’s. I remember sitting in an Audi 100 and not being able to believe the ergonomics. Everything fell to hand as if the car had been designed around me. I have never even driven an Audi since but that memory is very strong.
After reading my dad’s car mags, I was always keen to spot exotics on the road. I still remember my first Jensen Interceptor spotting.
A 1977 (or ’78) Ford Cobra II, white with blue stripes, air scoop, and a large cobra painted on the hood. Hey… I was 14. And it was the 70’s.
We were living on Grand Cayman island at the time (late 1970’s) and this was the hottest car on the island. It was owned by a couple of hoons of dubious reputation (probably affiliated with a Jamaican drug gang). On an island full of RHD mid 70’s Fiat crapmobiles, this bad boy was something to behold. I think the guys imported it from Miami, but I don’t remember if it was LHD or RHD.
I only saw it once or twice. I think the attention the owners got brought the scorn of the police and questions as to their funding. Does anyone else remember this car on Grand Cayman around 1978?
I’m another guy who was blown away by the first Mopar fin cars. The first one I ever saw was a yellow and white Savoy (mid-line) 4-door in the showroom. Man, I just loved that styling. In the interim between that day and the first fin car I bought, there were hopped up Fords, old Dodges and Studebakers, and even a new 65 Barracuda, but we finally got the red 58 Plymouth convertible in 1966 and kept it for more than 30 years. During that time I had half a dozen other 57 and 58 Plymouths including a factory stick-shift 57 Fury; a 57 DeSoto wagon and a sedan, a 57 New Yorker 4-door hardtop, a 60 New Yorker 2-door hardtop, and a 58 Imperial 4-door hardtop. It is possible that I may have gotten them out of my system. It’s ten or eleven years since the convertible went to Ohio, and I haven’t seen another fin car that I felt I couldn’t live without.
Background — born in 1945 in Detroit, all of mother’s side of family worked for big 3 – Cadillac, Chevrolet, and 2 at Ford. I’d amuse them as a youngster (about 5) by giving the make/model and year of car by the headlights coming at us at night. I guess I’ve always been a car nut.
So it should come as no surprise that the first car to blow me away was an MG-TD owned by a commercial pilot down the street. I don’t think I was 10 years old and that car was so GREAT to look at. Since then I’ve always been attracted to European sports cars.
I really fear for the car industry. All of us here “of a certain age” (I’m 40) all have memories of being tossed into some special car and roaring around with a relative or friend without a care in the world. Now, kids are strapped in like astronauts. Some smaller kids will be in booster seats until they are in Junior High School! And banished to the back seat regardless due to that dangerous airbag up front. Hardly the stuff to inspire passion. And cars these days are so anodyne anyway.
Safer, sure, but at what price?
Who can forget the love affair with their first car? I remember in 1976, getting permission from my parents to start shopping for a car. Which led to hours upon hours of pouring through the Trading Times (anyone else remember?) want ads, pouring over engine specs, equipment and price range. Everywhere I drove with my dad, my brother or my older friends who already had wheels, I was constantly visually searching for the right ride….then, when I saw it, it was like the seeing a drop-dead gorgeous woman in the nude for the first time….same dry mouth, same palpitating heart, same lust to acquire….
For me, it was the 1970 Mustang Boss 302. Most definitely NOT the 1969 Mach I….the 69’s bas-relief tail lights and that silly faux scoop on the rear haunch was like the wart on the nose of an otherwise well-built woman….totally distracting and off-putting. But the ’70 Boss 302. Man, oh, man….automotive perfection. A guy in the class ahead of me in high school had a bright yellow one, which I liked, but didn’t ever want to put up with the ‘lemon’ jokes. Drove a butterscotch-colored one, but that was somewhat lame too. Then one day I saw it….bright sky blue (Grabber Blue…they make the same color for the 2010 ‘Stang). Gleaming black Pony interior ‘armor-all’ed to within an inch of its life. Cragar mags on 60 series tires. Black slatted awning for that long back window. Matte black front spoiler. Fine rear wing. Blacked-out stripe on the hood to match that awesome Boss stripe coming down the front quarter panel between the front wheel and the door, then abruptly slashing backward along the flanks. Hood pins. Had to have it! HAD to have it.
My dad had to drive it home, because at the tender age of 16 years, 10 months, I didn’t yet know how to drive a manual.
Got it home, my brother (he of the 1968 383 Charger) gave me a brief primer on how to drive a stick, and I fired it up for my first solo. The experience when I turned the key, felt those glass-packs rumble and realized that this lovely beast was mine, mine, mine, only mine, no one elses, was nearly orgasmic….
Cars occasionally delight me from time to time, now….particularly my A-6, the practicality, the engineering, the re-assuring thunk of a soundly engineered door closing, the efficiency…..these are like appreciating a woman for her smile, her sensible mind, her practical nature, her kind personality. But that first Mustang!…..that was pure, raw, adrenaline fueled sex with an exotic Brazilian….lust, plain and simple….
When I was about 10, about’63, the rich neighbors had a pool party and a guest drove up in a cobra, my first lust. Just a gorgeous light blue or silver, can’t remember which. Also, during high school, a friend had a Griffith 289, a car with a similar heritage and just as outrageous, if not as pretty.
1962 Jaguar XKE. Both coupe and roadster.
Maxwell Smart’s red Tiger was the 1st car that really caught my eye. But in real life it would have been the mid 60’s corvette convertible that my grandma’s neighbor had.
I grew up in a muscle car town. Small blocks were for groceries getters. Sports cars were little underpowered things driven by old guys who still did maintenance from first principles, that is, maintenance to the old guys was tear down, inspection and rebuild. Maintenance to my cohort was adding aftermarket performance parts. There was another group still, who had antiques with mechanical brakes =:-|. I admired each group for their enthusiasm, but there was never any cross-over, the demarcation was very distinct. It was too bad; really their passion was all the same, just different machines. I hear it’s the same with the 4×4 and tractor guys too.
Anyway, one autumn I was reading about various “forgotten” odd-ball cars that might become “future classics”, one stood out to the writers because it had suddenly jumped to $250,000 out of the blue, at recent auctions. It stood out to me because I couldn’t believe that I’d never heard of it. There was picture, and it was beautiful. It was small, silver, had muscular curves, a big block, and was old (relative to me). It had been made by a guy named Carroll Shelby. It was a 1966 Shelby Cobra 427 S/C. It blew my mind. I’ve been smitten ever since.
Suddenly, I was discovering things like the Ford 427 SOHC. Concepts like power to weight ratio. I had compulsion to understand differentials, LSDs, planetary gear trains, and terms like bump-steer and Ackerman. Later it led me to a technical career. Some of my generation started the FWD performance drive, (but they did silly things like lowering their cars for handling, and then wondered why they got stuck on snow drifts – but I digress).
Bottom line is that Cobra discovery led me to world of wonderful machines that I admire and would love to have myself. My current infatuation is the Caterham Series-Five (SV) Roadsport. I hope everyone finds a special machine that honours those who toiled over design details and performance measures to bring a lump of material to life, and in turn to be treasured by its owner. Sadly, it seems increasing rare in new machines these days.
The earliest memory I have (and I mean the earliest memory PERIOD, not just my earliest automotive memory) is of seeing my fathers 1973 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme freshly washed and sitting in the garage. It was approximately 1979 and my father had spend the whole afternoon washing the car, the man had the house built and asked the builders to install hot and cold running hose bibs in the concrete garage, and he specified that the floor have a central drain that it was slopped toward. The car was painted metallic silver with a medium blue interior (not navy but not baby blue, right in between) the car was repainted from light blue (the 2nd to last time the man spent the money to have a car repainted). I was about 2 years old at the time and I remember toddling out the door connecting the house and the garage, the sun was setting and shinning right in the garage door, he had the door shut all but a crack to keep the sun out but the floor was still damp and the light was reflecting up and giving the car a ghostly glow, it was newly waxed and completely other worldly… That image is permanently burned into my brain, I dream about it sometimes, wake up shivering at the majesty of it. I was a confirmed gear head from that point. I can’t tell you the engine/transmission combo but if I called the old guy up right now he wouldn’t have to pause a second before telling me. We both mourned when Oldsmobile was euthanized.
My grandmother had a 1979 Oldsmobile 98 sedan, burnt orange metallic, cream white vinyl top, moon roof. I remember her hustling the big Olds down an old country road, I was only about 3 or 4 and could only see the giant glove box door, couldn’t even see the road! She and I would both raise our arms like we were on a roller coaster and scream when she went down a big hill! God that’s fun but highly dangerous! (I still want to own one of those land barges.)
My first car was a 1982 Chevrolet Celebrity with the 92hp Iron Duke and 3speed floor shift auto, it taught me patience but nothing passionate about it. My fathers 1967 Mustang convertible (purchased from his MIL when his FIL died) did stoke my automotive fire. 289 hi-po V8, 3 speed cruise-o-matic, 271hp, a little scaly rust, weak motors to raise the top, but scary fast, dual exhausts with glasspacks. He let me drive it to get my senior pictures taken with it so I could have the car in a few pictures. Mom and I set of in the Mustang, she was soooooooooo pissed, he never let her drive it. God that was the most fun I ever had on the 10 mile drive between my parents house out in the middle of the cornfields of Ohio and the nearest town Ottawa, OH.
My current lack of funds has forced me to be practical in my automotive choices but I am merely 33 years old and my automotive owners glory still lies out there. Somewhere a 1973 Cutlass waits.
Being the oddball that I am, I remember as a kid of around five or six in the early eighties being oh so in l-o-v-e with giant luxury cars! A friend of my dad’s had a ’76 Buick Electra Limited coupe. In 1981 we piled into it with their family and went to Boblo Island. For me the trip in that car was more fun than the park. Comfortable seats, plush velour, smooth ride and effortless power.
My mom had a friend that had a ’76 Coupe de Ville with the ‘dElegance option. Dark brown with beige interior, I couldn’t get enough!
As a dorky, awkward 12 year old in 7th grade in 1987, I found that I commanded a little more respect from the cool kids when I was dropped off in front of the school (hey Menno, this was in Ypsilanti too) in my dad’s 1986 Olds Cutlass Supreme Brougham, solid black, chrome super stock wheels, and cranberry leather that I can still remember the aroma from. That was, and always will be, my all time favorite car.
It wasn’t until I was sixteen and living in Florida that I got to discover what it was like to drive a car that was designed for driving, as opposed to just riding in. A girl from our church, who was like, ten years older than me, had a new ’91 Thunderbird. She and I would hang out sometimes and she would let me drive it. One day we decided to head out to the beach at Crystal River, near where we lived. The road out to the beach from town is a very curvy nine mile stretch of two lane. We were cruising along and I remember commenting about how nice the car took the curves. It was then that I looked down and noticed that the odometer said we were doing 90 mph! From a pure ride and handling standpoint, that was the first car that blew me away.
Lastly, the first import car that blew me away was my mom’s boss’s 1989 Toyota Cressida. I remember the first time I rode in it I couldn’t get over the attention to detail and superb engineering that went into it. When I was older, they let me drive it a few times-fast, quiet and luxurious, what a car!
In the years since I have driven Corvettes, Camaros, Mustangs and other interesting cars, but those were my “firsts”, and I remember them fondly…
Three that I saw – at 10, a grey 356 Coupe parked across the street from my grandparent’s home. Owned by a Navy chaplain who parked it there – at his parents – while at sea. A few years later, an Aston Martin DB something or other – pre ’64 – partly disassembled by the owner – who also owned an excavation company. And in ’67, at the Montreal Expo, a 917 in the German pavilion. Edit – well I thought it was a 917, but it must have been something earlier… Complicated as all get-out.
The first I rode in – a college friend’s ’68(’69?) Z-28 with the 302 DZ engine.
The first I owned and drove – a ’68 Fiat 124 Sport Coupe – MT5, twin-cam 1.4 L, 4 wheel disk brakes, pretty neutral handling, pre-rubber coated railroad tie style bumpers, but the body was made of compressed rust….
I think the first car I ever loved was my dad’s 1989 Toyota Celica. He bought it used when I was 10 or so and would go driving all over twisty roads and we had all sorts of fun with it. It sure wasn’t a supercar or anything, but my dad and I had some good times in it and it taught me what a great time one can have in an automobile. Ever since then, small cars have had my heart.
I’ve never been “blown away” by a car, persay, too poor I guess, so I’ll just have to settle for the slow-building love of a car.
A 1969 silver Volvo P1800. I was eight years old the day we took it for a test drive. While driving 80-90km/h on city streets, my Dad explained fuel injection to me …. and a significant portion of the rest of my life was set into motion.
The first car that blew me away was something very ordinary: a 1966 Buick Special 4 door sedan. This was Buick’s “bare bones” cheapest car back in the day. It was medium blue and had the V6 engine. It was my dad’s car. He purchased it when I was about 2 or 3 years old, so this was around 1976-1977. My mom still has a picture of me as a toddler standing beside it, just admiring it. I remember many times sitting in the front seat between my mom and dad (I was still an only child then), with no car seat…things were different back then. I can still remember the huge plain looking steering wheel (no power steering), still remember the upholstery design, still remember the layout of the dash. I experienced a car accident for the first time in that car when a hit and run driver clobbered the left front fender, after which it had a light blue fender from a different car. I don’t remember that accident, but I do remember the second accident that totalled it in 1979. I don’t know what it was about that car, but it left quite an impression on me and set me on the path of being a lifelong car nut.
I had to be 5 which was in 1952 and riding in the back seat of a Cadillac. The electric window switch kept me busy and amazed until I was told to sit still and stop playing with the window. Then at age 10, 1957, the son of a family friend drove to our house in the Triumph TR-3 and gave me a ride. That was very memorable, the car had cutaway doors so you could see every feature of the road as you drove, the car had its shifter on the floor between the seats and there was no top. Someday I said I would own a sports car. At best I did have a sunroof in an VW but never did own a convertible.
The other memorable event was in 1958 seeing Cadillac limousines parked in front of the St. Francis Hotel in S.F. To this day I still marvel and covet having a limousine. Also that year the Lincoln Continental was introduced with the slanted rear window that was retractable. I thought that had to be the perfect car and recall trying to convince my parents to buy one. Sad to say they bought a 4 door Chevrolet instead.
The Gull Wing Mercedes owned by the new kid in school father was also very memorable.
Just about anything from the mid-nineties that had pentagram wheels.
Okay, which was the first?
Was it the car from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Hey, it could fly, I loved that one. I had the one from the box of Trixs. Or was it Honey Combs?
Maybe it was the Mach 5. That car could jump, cut down forests, and even go underwater! And Speed Racer was cool. I was too young to get into Trixie; but I soon learned! My siblings and I thought Spridle and Chim Chim were dumb and undesirable, not unlike “Scrappy Doo”.
I vaguely remember “My Mother the Car”…but that didn’t turn me on to cars.
James Bond had some cool wheels throughout the years. The underwater Lotus; the what was it…Porsche? You know it, that one with the ejection seat button concealed in the shifter ball!
What was that Saturday morning cartoon that had the races? Each cartoon character would have his own car, and each week somebody else would win. I think Yogi and Booboo had a car. The Pink Panter, too.
How about the Batmobile from the 1960’s television show? With fire coming out the back! Later there were the movie versions, but I was already driving a Trans Am by then. My Trans Am was used, but I thought it was great to have a red T-top version of Kitt.
And that brings me to my first “real” car. I had driven my dad’s Chevys and Pontiacs, and a rickety old Dodge wagon. *yawn*
But my first real car was the Olds Delta 88 I bought. Cushy and comfortable, it was my first taste of freedom and adventure; at least until it overheated one frigid December morning. It drove like a couch on wheels and the Alpine AM/FM/Cassette head unit was wonderful, even moreso after I paired it up with good sounding aftermarket speakers.
Then about two years later I finally got that red version of KITT, and I never looked back, GM design insanity aside.
A 1992 RX7 convertible.
Perfect, just perfect. It ran rings around the Corvettes I previously drove, and was so well connected to my mind, it felt like what I thought robo-sex would feel like.
Awesome and addicting.
Radio off! I don’t want to be distracted!
In 1974 at the age of 6 riding in the back seat of my friend Murray’s dad’s 1969 Mustang 390GT on the way to McDonalds for his birthday party.
We kept squealing every time his dad would downshift and floor it with the exhaust roaring just below our seats and the rear end kicking out.
I think an ’11 Mustang with the 5.0L Coyote motor may just be the mid-life crisis car for me in the next few years.