I was born into a family of car lovers.  My dad’s dad, was a huge car buff, and though his preacher’s income didn’t give him the opportunity to own the latest and greatest vehicles, he’d still make the annual pilgrimage to the local Ford, Lincoln, and Mercury dealers to check out the newest models and come home with the new brochures.  Yes, there were other car brands, but they might just as well have been manufactured by the devil himself.   Though, he did once tell me he married my Grandma because she came with a Pontiac.  

My dad inherited this same love of vehicles, along with his siblings.  The recent Facebook trend of posting car pictures brought a smile to my face, because my dad actually had a photo album of all the cars he had owned over the years.   As a kid, our Sunday afternoons were often filled with taking drives, oftentimes those drives were down off the mountaintop to the big city of Catskill, NY to drive around the car lots, so we could browse without the pressure of a commission driven salesman.  

It’s really no surprise that my brother and I are both car fans.   Even my uncle on my mom’s side was a car nut.  We were doomed.  Starting out with our collections of Matchbox cars as kids, we both could not wait to get our first set of wheels.   The freedom of owning a car of my own, even if that car wasn’t much to look at, was a freedom worth working for.   Summer nights with the windows down, music blaring, and the twisty mountain roads are still some of my fondest memories.

Now, there’s something I have learned over the years.   Not everybody loves cars the way I do and the way my family has.  Rumor has it, that for some folks, cars are simply transportation.  As hard as that may be to believe, I have witnessed it with my very own eyes.  People buying cars based on things like practicality, fuel mileage, and even reliability.  Three variables that have never once influenced one of my car buying decisions.

Being the curious type, I decided to do some research into this phenomenon.   According to our friends over at Merriam-Webster, Transportation means an act, process, or instance of transporting…which then led me to research the word transport….and here’s where it all became very clear.  

There are two very different definitions for the word transport…

1  : to transfer or convey from one place to another
2  : to carry away with strong and often intensely pleasant emotion

It appears that my family completely skipped over definition 1 and went directly to definition number 2.   …and much to my surprise, there’s an entire population stuck on definition number 1.   Can they be saved?

You see, for me, it’s both the joy of owning a vehicle that strikes an emotional chord deep within my being, and the act of driving that vehicle down a country road or any road for that matter, that carry me away with a strong and often intensely pleasant emotion.

When I was in Kindergarten, I’d ride to school with my dad.   He was a high school English teacher in our one building K-12 school of 500 kids.   My dad drove a Plymouth Roadrunner back in those days.  A muscle car with a 383 cubic inch engine and a cartoon character on the side of it, what could be better.  It was a different time back then, and on more than one occasion, we’d experience a spirited ride home in reaction to one of my dad’s hot rod driving students referring to his pride and joy as a Road Chicken.   On those days, these particular students were schooled in far more than the subject of English.  

I’ve owned quite a few vehicles since my first car purchase.   Some of those purchases were purely emotional, an uncontrollable urge to own a particular vehicle, often influenced by the horsepower rating of the vehicle in question.   Other purchases were made for financial reasons or the necessity of affordable insurance, often a problem brought on by actions taken in a previous vehicle purchased primarily on horsepower ratings.   I can say that never once have I made a purchase based on a consumer reports article.

There are really very few things that are more enjoyable than taking a drive solely for the purpose of taking a drive.  Pulling out of the driveway, with no planned destination, no planned route other than seeking out only backroads, and letting the drive take you where it wants you to go.   Any vehicle, when used in such a manner, can provide great amounts of joy and satisfaction.   Now, I will say that having the right vehicle for the particular ride will certainly increase the grin factor.

But, let’s not forget the pure joy of vehicular ownership.   Purchasing a vehicle is no small feat.  Not only does it require a significant outlay of cash, but even the negotiation and buying process can be overwhelming for some.  For those reasons alone, you should always buy a car that makes you smile in some way…whether that be for the color, the shape, the emblem, or the powerplant hidden beneath the hood.   The best kind of car is one that causes you to turn around and take a second glance as you are walking away from it in the parking lot.

My dad bought a lot of cars.   There was always a clever dose of justification given to my mother before each purchase, but the underlying reason was always the fact that he just wanted to buy a new car. It was one of the things that gave him the most joy in life.  When my brother and I followed in his footsteps, this was one area where my dad did not have a parental leg to stand on.   What a glorious thing… youthful foolishness completely immune to parental criticism.

Well, that was until the year Two Thousand and Eleven.   

Ever since my Matchbox car days, I had a dream car. When I was 9 years old, I spent my hard earned allowance money, which was fifty cents a week, on a Porsche 911 Carrera Matchbox car, painted in what may have been the ugliest shade of metallic brown ever to leave an aerosol can.   …but despite the paint color, that’s when it happened.   From that moment on, my vehicular compass pointed directly towards Stuttgart Germany.   Even my second vehicle, a 1978 Volkswagen Scirocco with a mere 68 horsepower, displayed enough of that fine european handling that it only solidified my position that I wanted to own the ultimate German sports car.

My first job out of college was at Eastman Kodak Company.   Though I thoroughly enjoyed my years there, it was at a time where the world no longer needed film and paper to capture a photo.  Given this interesting time, the guarantee of lifetime employment no longer existed, and it only seemed prudent to set aside some money in the event that my relationship with my employer was cut short due to corporate cost cutting efforts.  Fortunately this never occurred, however, I did decide to part ways with Kodak and move to a company with a brighter future.  Shortly after changing jobs, my buddy told me about a very reasonably priced seven year old Porsche Boxster that he had seen on a car lot.  No longer in fear of losing my source of income, I traded my layoff fund for that Porsche Boxster.   Though it still wasn’t the 911 Carrera that I had set my sights on in the mid seventies, it scratched nearly all of the itches, and was an extremely fun vehicle to drive.   If you’ve never driven a Porsche with a flat 6 engine, and experienced the spectacular howl it lets out as the tachometer approaches the redline, you probably would not understand the sheer joy it brings.

I drove that car for the next 5 years, making some modifications to personalize it to my liking, and then a miracle occurred (at least that is how I interpreted it).  Through a series of conversations, I learned of a friend of my brother that was looking for a sports car…and boy, did I have a deal for him.  With a guaranteed sale in hand, I started to scour the classifieds for an affordable used 911.   It did not take too long until I located a very reasonably priced 5 year old 911 Carrera sitting on the showroom floor of a Nissan dealer in Wichita Kansas.  When I shared the news with my dad, something terrible happened, that disapproving tone that I had experienced many times before, was there.  “Why do you need to buy a different car?” he asked.   “Your Boxster is perfect and plenty fast”.   My dad’s hesitation was likely warranted, due to the damage I had once before caused to a high powered sports car in a moment of poor judgement and zealous acceleration.  But, as I had many times before, I filed his caution in the undue parental worrying bucket, and in March 2011, I jumped onto an airplane with my 16 year old son, flew to Kansas, and drove my new-to-me sports car home.   Before I even got to my house, I stopped at my dad’s to show him my dream car.   He looked it over carefully and showed some cautious enthusiasm, but I could tell, he still had not warmed up to the idea.

A couple weeks later, my son and I drove over to visit my dad.  As we were talking, my son said “Grandpa, you should drive Dad’s new car”.  My dad’s health was not the best, but he agreed, and we made our way out to the 911.  My dad took the driver’s seat, I jumped in the passenger seat, and my dad handed me his oxygen tank to hang on to…yes, you just read that correctly   We made our way out of the village, and turned on to a 55 MPH stretch of road that passed through miles and miles of farmland.   As he rowed through the gears, he gave it a heavy dose of throttle, and soon we were approaching twice the posted speed limit as we made our way through the countryside.   I can only assume that if observing the speed limit is lawful, observing it a second time is twice as lawful.    We got to a good turn around point and he broke the rear end of the car free as he once again put the car through its paces.   He looked at me with a great big smile and said “man, this power is addicting”.   It was at that very moment I knew, my dad approved of my latest car purchase. 

You see, a car is far more than mere transportation.  This is something my Grandpa was keenly aware of, my dad was aware of, and I am aware of.   A car is the gateway to adventure, a source of freedom to explore, a generator of smiles, and a moving memory maker.  Some of my best memories are of times riding in a car with friends and family experiencing life on the open road.   

During these days of quarantine, a lot of our normal activities and hobbies are off limits  But, you can still take a ride.   So consider packing up the kids, throw some snacks in a backpack, jump in your transportation vehicle of choice, head out onto the road and turn, in any direction, and just drive and see where it takes you.  You may just realize that your transportation vehicle wants to be far more than transportation, and just wants to “carry you away with a strong and intensely pleasant emotion”.

Over the years my mistress has transformed, sometimes gracefully, often not, into many different automotive forms. Even immersed as I was in her sense-numbing nectar, practicality would occasionally dictate that I compromise desire for utility and here a truck or there an econobox would appear and linger as long as I could stand before I thirsted once more for the deeper passion that could only be sated by the sultry form of my true love. Here of course I speak of the Ford Mustang.

In actuality, my attachment to Mustangs began before I could drive…legally at least.   I had put together plastic models, acquired HO scale versions that travelled over scale miles of plastic track paid for a few sections at a time from lawn-mowing money, and read all the brochures cover to cover that I got from accompanying my dad on his annual pilgrimage to the Ford dealer’s new model open house. It was no surprise therefore that my first car, purchased partially on credit, a fact that immediately set the tone for my willingness to abandon reason where desire was concerned, was a 1965 Mustang. I remember my dad’s comment when he sat nervously in the passenger seat of this high-mileage questionably reliable Ralph Nader agnostic sleazy used car back-lot wonder as I attempted to extract every erg of energy available from the 200 straight 6 that whined apprehensively from beneath the sleek long white hood: “Do you think it would be a good idea to test the brakes before you see how fast it will go?” I did test them, at the end of the test drive, and they worked well enough. I was hooked, and have been since.

Over the years I have been owned by numerous Mustangs, as well as their close Mercury cousins the Cougar and the Capri, and each has been special to me in their own way. They say your first love is your best, and although that may be debated, it would be hard to deny the attraction I had to that first Mustang. That being said, two others have stood out from the rest enough to garner special affection. The first was a 1984 charcoal gray GT convertible with a 5-speed manual transmission. This was one of the few cars I have ordered equipped exactly as I wanted, and it was the source of immediate angst as the promised 5-6 week waiting period turned into two and a half months, and I was not fit company to be around when my repeated trips to the dealer to see if it was parked out back awaiting prep each ended in disappointment. When it finally came it was immediate total bliss. I cannot say if she led me to abandon my law-abiding ways or I enticed her, but suffice it to say that when we were enjoying each other’s company regard for government regulation entered a period of serious decline. For one glorious year we were the fastest thing on the road, or near enough so that the challenges from the occasional obviously superior adversary could be graciously declined without putting too much of a dent in our mutual self-esteem. I dubbed my ride the “Parkway Prowler”, and she did her best to earn the name. But time passes, and the summer of exuberance turned to fall and pleasant more mannerly top down drives through the vibrant colors of autumn became the norm. Then winter came and a shed was fashioned to shelter my passion during the long dreary months ahead. These were interrupted only with regular visits to the shed to start the Mustang and let her run at idle while I basked in the still fairly new car smells to the accompaniment of the sounds emanating from the premium sound system featuring the electronically advanced Dolby auto-reverse cassette player.   Spring finally came and with it the anticipation of new encounters where the pleasantries of competitive domination would surely once again be the norm. But the new year brought change, and every car that mattered was now faster. But my affection for searching out the limits of our relationship did not diminish.   I simply found more secluded locations where our joy could endure uninterrupted. She was still fast enough.

The second stand-out relationship is the one I currently enjoy. Nor is this a “love the one you’re with” affair. This connection has been cultivated with much anticipation and forward planning, an oddity for one so usually driven with heat of the moment passion, and its arrival was inevitable from the first rumbling of a 50^th anniversary re-make of the greatest American automotive classic ever produced. The general justification here was that my first car was built exactly 50 years earlier, and that an opportunity for that type of milestone would not occur again in my lifetime, and if I were to own this car till the day I left this world I could, at least automotively speaking, die happy.

I speak here of a magnetic gray 2015 convertible with a 4-cylinder turbo-charged 315 HP engine married to 6 speed manual transmission. The marketing minds at Ford chose to call this power plant Eco-Boost. Now I am as supportive as anyone of the concept of greening up the planet, but I confess my interest here runs more towards blackening up pavement, which surprisingly enough this car will do in third gear. Given that, I actually find the term a little offensive to hang on a car with this much performance potential. I will admit that I do not find the 32 plus MPG that this thing will achieve if one is to stop paying attention to its intended function and just hang with traffic at 80 or 85 on a reasonably flat interstate offensive, but it was far from my prime motivation in this acquisition.   In fact, I could not have even presented that as my incentive in any credible fashion to anyone who might have a vested interest in my monetary expenditures. I think it is well documented that I was moved more by the little toggle switch conveniently located on the center of the dash that allows one to enter into “track mode” and all that it has to offer. Now for the speed is everything crowd let me be very clear here. This car is fast. As fast as the GT from just a few years back. It is, however, not the fastest thing on the road…not even for the first glorious year I have owned it. It is not even the fastest Mustang…not by a long shot. But it is quick. It is what I like to call fast enough. Fast enough to shatter the speed limit in any state in the union and do in right away.   My doctor who fears the effects of even caffeine on my heart-rate would probably think it is more than fast enough, but I have not discussed this with him. I am not sure I took his potential concern into account as much as the extra $7,000 price tag that went with stepping up to the GT, as was my immediate instinct, when concluding this decision to be the only viable choice. That and the rumor that for another 500 American dollars Ford Racing would put a tune on this engine that would give it another nearly 100 HP without voiding the warranty. I’m not sure if that ever really came to fruition, but there is a shop locally that will apply the tune for about $500. Coupling that with the lower weight of the turbo (I’m sorry, there I go again) would make it a car to be reckoned with.   Even with this stock power plant, performance could have been improved with, aptly enough, the performance package.   Mostly that is better rear-end gearing, but comes with suspension improvements as well (although the standard version corners faster than I will), but it also comes with a set of black wheels and summer-only tires. This last was enough for me to decide I didn’t need it, regardless of my doctor’s feelings in the matter, as I am too old-school to embrace blacked out everything as the height of automotive beauty. I am more of a chrome it if you can see it kind of guy.   That notwithstanding, the sleek lines of the 2015 don’t offend me despite their lack of brilliant trim.   Even the wheels that come standard with the turbo are somewhat subdued, but are still attractive enough nonetheless.   I did not intend leather seats due to the Arizona heat, but they are cool looking, and cool to the touch with the flick of a switch. Hot too if the need should ever arise. The interior is inviting and in my opinion is the greatest improvement out of many over the last design. It is truly enjoyable to be in. Getting in is of course a different matter, and is the only thing in a “I can’t find anything I hate about this car” car that is of any irritation. In fairness, 50 years ago I would not even have noticed.

As I say, it has been a year. The 50^th anniversary hype and the gotta-have-one feeding frenzy has long-since subsided. But like any good relationship, ours has grown over time.   I cannot say we yet have truly discovered each other’s limits, but we are closer. We have in fact not even recorded our flirtations on the “for track use only” feature that allows one to keep track of fastest elapsed times and such, and I have never been as much concerned with those numbers as the feeling that comes from achieving them and the satisfaction that only happens when a spirited car is driven as God intended. No relationships are without their ups and downs, and this one has been no exception, as the hot Arizona summer brought a brief period of intermittent separation, with the Mustang hunkered down in a shed fashioned for the purpose of protecting her from the ravages of the monsoons, where she was occasionally started and allowed to run at idle as I enjoyed the almost new car smell while surrounded by the sounds emanating from the satellite radio. But we are reunited now, and I still feel as excited to walk out to the corral and saddle her up as I did a year ago, and I still turn and look back over my shoulder when I leave her as would be true of any great love. The 2015 Mustang may not have earned Car of the Year honors, but in a lifetime of cars it has been a car of a lifetime for me. But the greatest compliment I can give her, and it goes to the depth of our relationship is simply this; she is good enough to wax.

Somewhere along the way, reality set in, and my racing career never went beyond some poor judgement behind the wheel of a car on twisty Catskill Mountain roads and laps around the local go-kart track.  But to this day, every time I see a race car on a trailer heading to the local track, my thoughts go back to the days of dreaming about becoming the next Richard Petty.

After many years of driving family oriented vehicles, I was finally able to get my hands on an honest to goodness sports car… a vehicle that was built for speed and handling from the very beginning of its existence.   A vehicle that inspires driving with no destination in mind, the drive is the destination.  A vehicle that should not be wasted on a straight road, and isn’t having any fun unless the front wheels are turning left and right as the rear wheels flirt with the loss of traction.

However, too much of that on public roads, can sometimes lead to unfavorable results and frequent visits to your local courthouse.

Here in upstate New York, nestled in the beautiful Finger Lakes, is Watkins Glen International Speedway.  A racetrack that has been home to some great racing from high end sports cars to oval loving Nascar cars.  This track is a gem and in the words of one of my best friends ‘is the happiest place on earth’.

Every year on opening day of the racing season, the track is opened to the public.  For a mere twenty five bucks, you can take your street car onto the track for three paced laps.  And if being able to drive on a real racetrack is not enough reason to part with some cash, all the proceeds go to charity.  There’s no appointment necessary.  Just get in your car, drive to the track, sign a bunch of waivers, and get in line behind one of the pace vehicles.

Last year, a buddy and I decided to drive our cars down and give it a try.  We were not quite sure what to expect as all the information on the event clearly stated that we’d be kept to highway speeds.   However, driving into the staging area alone was nearly worth the cost of admission.  The variety of vehicles there was outstanding.  There were modern day sports cars, exotics, muscle cars, some classic sports cars, and even the occasional pick-up or mini van.   Many car clubs were rolling in together, representing their favorite brand or model.  It was practically a car show.  The vibe was electric.

Photo Credit Marc Pukos

After a short wait for the group in front of us to finish their laps, we finally got the go sign.   Engines started firing up and we rolled out of the staging area, down pit road, picking up speed as we entered the track.  My initial concern about the pace being too slow was quickly removed as we dropped into the first sharp right hander.   Even at highway speeds, the corners proved to be quite exhilarating.   Despite the many warnings against excessive speed, there were occasional opportunities to see the speedometer needle dancing around numbers that are only allowed in Europe.   Working from corner to corner, running through the gears, listening to the engine howl as the tachometer reached the redline, and passing by the grandstands of this historic racetrack was an unforgettable experience.   I felt like an honest to goodness race car driver.   To top it off, professional photographers were sitting track side, taking pictures of our cars as we made our way around the track.   It didn’t take too long for our three laps to come to an end…and it took even less time for us to get back in line to have another go at it.

There may not have been any fans in the stands, checkered flags, or trophies, but for six wonderful laps around Watkins Glen Speedway, I was a race car driver, complete with the smile and the speed, the wonderful speed.

A dream come true…

Photo Credit Marc Pukos

Fast forward to adulthood, and the thrill of being able to pick any car I want from a whole display of vehicles is gone.   Not every vehicle costs ninety nine cents.  Practicality often replaces passion in the decision making process.   The purchase itself is a lot more work than taking my selection up to the counter and handing the cashier some cash…there’s pressure, haggling, the dreaded extended warranty upsell, and fancier math on the purchase contract than I ever saw in all my years of schooling.  Bottom line, cars are not as much fun as they were when I was ten.

Earlier this month, my brother and I decided to jump on a plane, fly to the Big Apple, and check out the New York International Auto Show.   Guess what…it was Kay-Bee Toy and Hobby all over again.  No, there was not a single vehicle available for ninety nine cents, and no, none of the cars were priced exactly the same, but just like the Matchbox aisle in the toy store, there were hundreds of cars to check out…ranging from the practical to the completely insane.  The fun had returned…

The New York International Auto Show is held in Javits Center, and it’s big…really big.   With nearly every make and model represented, and covering multiple floors, the show will keep you entertained for hours.  Not only is it a big show…but it’s extravagant…  Cars are spinning around on rotating displays, corporate spokes models are touting all highlights of their product lineup, the lights are bright, the music is loud, and the hype is everywhere. Nearly every brand and every model is represented, including the latest concept vehicles.   This is something just not found at the smaller auto shows.

In addition to the slew of vehicles, there are interactive elements of the show too.  Rides are available in some of the latest electric vehicle offerings.  There are interactive displays that give you the feel of some pretty high performance cars.   My personal favorite is Camp Jeep, where Jeep drivers will take you for a ride around their obstacle course in one of their trail rated Wranglers, Cherokees, Grand Cherokees, and Renegades.  They tip you sideways, climb over logs, and ascend an incline that is roller coaster steep…it’s too much fun.

And then, there are the super cars.   Cars that cost more than most homes, go faster than anything else on the road, and are the dream cars of every ten year old up to ninety year old there.

Here are just some of the highlights of this year’s show…

2016 Honda Pilot

Honda Civic Concept

Hyundai Santa Cruz Concept Truck

2016 Porsche Boxster Spyder

Lincoln Continental Concept

2016 Nissan Titan

Buick Avenir Concept

2016 Golf Alltrack Sportwagen

Ford GT

A little more exploring reveals motorcycles, antique cars, a camper or two, and a neat display of NYPD and NYFD vehicles from over the years.

The New York International Auto Show is a great event.  If you’re looking to choose your next vehicle, are a car fanatic, or are just looking for an excuse to go to New York City for the day…you can’t go wrong.  A $16 entry fee is all it takes to provide a full day of automotive overload.  But be prepared, after returning home from the show you may no longer be content with the vehicle you left parked at the airport.

Check out our Focal Point Column for more pictures from the 2015 New York Auto Show