I confess. I'm a car guy. Ok, I'm more than just a car guy, I'm a car nut. I like them new and old, import and domestic. I fly into Detroit in January just to attend the auto show. I subscribe to the car magazines. I surf Jalopnik and lurk around on the Motor Trend forums when I'm not in the garage or on the road.
My current classic car is a 1981 Corvette. My wonderful wife brought the 'vette home in 1998, after she overheard the original owner saying he wanted to sell the car and buy a Harley Davidson. Imagine getting this phone call:
We kept the car for a week to have it inspected. Two different Chevrolet dealers verified the car and we've had it ever since. The car (and more importantly how I obtained it) is extremely dear to me. I'll part with it sometime after I draw my last breath.
A few weeks ago, I started going through the boxes of old papers I had stored in my garage. In among old tax returns and receipts was the VIN# of my very first car: a 1985 Pininfarina (think Fiat) Spider. It was 1993 and I was eighteen years old. I was driving along a two lane highway when I noticed a small black convertible sitting in front of a hotel with a for sale sign on it. I swung my (parents') car in "just for a look"; but I was already hooked. A few days later, I drove back and purchased the Spider.
Like any Italian (myself included), it had its share of quirks. It had power windows, but those only worked for the few days after I took the window switch apart and cleaned it. It was technically a five speed, but the car was so prone to popping out of 2nd that I stopped using it. The tail lights and interior lights would switch off every time I turned the steering wheel, so I avoided driving at night. The car had no A/C and the windshield defroster was a joke, making muggy rainy days almost impossible to drive in. Qualified mechanics were few, far between, and expensive.
I didn't care. It was 1993. I was eighteen years old. I had a convertible. In spite of its quirks, I really loved that car. Girls liked the car. And it HANDLED. The car had a degree of connectedness to the road that I'd never experienced before. There seemed to be no corner it couldn't conquer. I'd take it out on country roads on my days off just to commune with the car. It was breathtaking. Did I mention that girls liked the car? :)
I only spent one summer with the Pininfarina. It was just too much for my broke, stupid, eighteen year-old ass to keep up with. I haven't seen the car in over sixteen years, and I honestly didn't think about it much until I found the VIN among my old papers. Ever since last weekend, I've been obsessed with finding what became of it. Where is it? Does it still run? What kind of shape is it in? Might I be able to repurchase it? I can't stop myself. I have to find out.
Welcome to Chasing Classic Car(-s), personal edition. Hop on in. We'll find out how this all ends together.
-CJ
My current classic car is a 1981 Corvette. My wonderful wife brought the 'vette home in 1998, after she overheard the original owner saying he wanted to sell the car and buy a Harley Davidson. Imagine getting this phone call:
Her: I'm on my way home from work. Can you meet me in the driveway?
Me: [Half asleep] Why? It's one AM...
Her: I'm driving a Corvette home for you to look at.
Me: [stunned silence]
Her: Are you awake?
We kept the car for a week to have it inspected. Two different Chevrolet dealers verified the car and we've had it ever since. The car (and more importantly how I obtained it) is extremely dear to me. I'll part with it sometime after I draw my last breath.
A few weeks ago, I started going through the boxes of old papers I had stored in my garage. In among old tax returns and receipts was the VIN# of my very first car: a 1985 Pininfarina (think Fiat) Spider. It was 1993 and I was eighteen years old. I was driving along a two lane highway when I noticed a small black convertible sitting in front of a hotel with a for sale sign on it. I swung my (parents') car in "just for a look"; but I was already hooked. A few days later, I drove back and purchased the Spider.
Like any Italian (myself included), it had its share of quirks. It had power windows, but those only worked for the few days after I took the window switch apart and cleaned it. It was technically a five speed, but the car was so prone to popping out of 2nd that I stopped using it. The tail lights and interior lights would switch off every time I turned the steering wheel, so I avoided driving at night. The car had no A/C and the windshield defroster was a joke, making muggy rainy days almost impossible to drive in. Qualified mechanics were few, far between, and expensive.
I didn't care. It was 1993. I was eighteen years old. I had a convertible. In spite of its quirks, I really loved that car. Girls liked the car. And it HANDLED. The car had a degree of connectedness to the road that I'd never experienced before. There seemed to be no corner it couldn't conquer. I'd take it out on country roads on my days off just to commune with the car. It was breathtaking. Did I mention that girls liked the car? :)
I only spent one summer with the Pininfarina. It was just too much for my broke, stupid, eighteen year-old ass to keep up with. I haven't seen the car in over sixteen years, and I honestly didn't think about it much until I found the VIN among my old papers. Ever since last weekend, I've been obsessed with finding what became of it. Where is it? Does it still run? What kind of shape is it in? Might I be able to repurchase it? I can't stop myself. I have to find out.
Welcome to Chasing Classic Car(-s), personal edition. Hop on in. We'll find out how this all ends together.
-CJ
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