On the Road

On the Road

Feature Article from Hemmings Classic Car

September, 2008 - Pat Foster

Gotta confess: I like the road. It takes me all kinds of places I've never seen before. It delivers me to car shows all around the country. It also inspires me, and the serenity of a 12- or 14-hour drive can soothe my sometimes tortured mind. The lure of the road is powerful. Sure, it can get tiring sometimes, especially if you devote a large part of your life to it as I do. But it's always interesting.

I spend so much time traveling that sometimes I wake up in the morning not knowing what state I'm in. And I've racked up enough reward points and frequent flyer miles for a free trip into outer space. But it's worth it: I always have a hand on the pulse of the old car hobby and I get out of having to mow the lawn.

Last year's trips were a lot of fun. I'm grateful for once again having the opportunity to shake hands and talk with lots of Hemmings Classic Car readers. Along the way, I made quite a number of new acquaintances and caught up with old friends.

Most of the folks I met last year were exceptionally nice. However, two people in particular really stood out: The ones who said I look a lot younger in person than I do in my picture. I haven't heard anything as nice since years ago, when a doctor told me I wasn't crazy and let me go home.

As a matter of fact, I do look and feel a little bit younger; a result of shedding some excess pounds (thanks, Weight Watchers!). That's the good news; the bad news is that even though I'm 15 pounds lighter, I'm still kind of a lard-butt. I guess I'm an obese man trapped in a pudgy man's body. Anyway, this year I hope you'll be seeing less of me, and also more of me, if you get my drift.

Part of what's neat about being on the road is that you get a chance to do some really deep thinking. In fact, I've developed a whole personal philosophy behind the wheel of my Rambler convertible. Here are some random thoughts on life, the universe, and automobiles:

1) People who own perfectly ugly cars don't think they're bad-looking, so never start a conversation by saying something like "Boy, your 1948 Slushmobile is so homely it makes a Yugo look good." Take it from me, that guy will either punch your lights out or let the air out of your tires when you're not looking.

2) It's becoming almost impossible to drive a vintage old car on the highway without having some dimwit non-old-car person pull up alongside you at 65 mph, attempting to start a conversation. They ask what year the car is and, naturally, how much it's worth. (I usually tell them my Rambler's worth $50,000).

If they haven't caused an accident by then, they go on to ask how long you've owned it and a slew of other personal questions. What I usually do is simply back off the gas pedal and try to drop behind them, but that doesn't always work. For some reason, annoying people tend to be very tenacious.

3) Generations ago, men used to spend lazy summer days at the fishing hole, napping on a short-legged stool next to a stream or pond, with their lunch in a bag next to them. In the 21st century, men spend lazy summer days at a car meet, napping on a lawn chair next to their car, with their lunch in a cooler next to them. That's progress.

Since I've managed to spend about half my life on the road, it occurred to me that I should try to write the Great American Novel about people, travel and the meaning of the life. I even thought of a good title: On the Road. Then I remembered a high school English class I slept through when I was 16. The assignment was to read Jack Kerouac's On the Road. I didn't pay attention, so I ended up reading Douglas Adams's The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. As you might guess, academically speaking, I didn't do well that year.

Anyhow, last year I finally got around to reading On the Road. I must be getting old, because, to me, it seemed like a lot of fluff and folderol. I read once that Kerouac wrote the book on a roll of paper towels (or something like that) in a single 35-hour stretch while under the influence of something other than inspiration, but more recently I heard that old story wasn't true.

But it leaves me to wonder--why's it so badly written? I mean, did I miss something? I know some nail stylists who could pen a more meaningful story. To me, the only good part was that they drove a Hudson.

By the way, during the past year I visited a total of 15 states and I think I learned something new in every one of them. I found out that New Jersey really does have the worst drivers in the country, though Massachusetts is trying hard to catch up. Montana seems to have more gambling casinos than restrooms. Vermont has flies that are big enough to vote. New York is home to the best cup of coffee in America--and also the worst. Michigan is a great place to live, as long as you don't live there in winter.

I also found that at some swap meets--the best ones--people cease to be Ford men or Chevy men, or Mopar nuts. They become Old-Car Guys, and the camaraderie can be tremendous.

To me, that's as important as the cars themselves. After all, if you're not having fun at an old-car show, it's probably not the meet that's the problem. I'm always disappointed when I see sour-faced folks at a car show. If you think about what you might be doing instead--cleaning the gutters, washing the dog, attending a town council meeting--you have to be grateful for any excuse that gets you out of those "adult responsibilities." So put on a happy face and enjoy the show.


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