about a year ago, i became obsessed with a certain 1967 chevrolet impala. sure, i had admired the contours of the classics when i saw them on the road, but never before had i truly understood the inherent beauty of detroit's finest exports.
today, classic cars occupy a rather large portion of my brainspace. i watch for them when i'm driving, on the road, parked on the side, inside garages, hoods popped, waiting for examination. i want one so badly i practically taste the cold steel.
part of the attraction is the overwhelming dudeliness of possessing a muscle car; when the awakening of my masculinity happened, so did my awakening to the hotness of american heavy metal. there is an obvious sexuality in almost every classic car. they come from a time when miles per gallon wasn't even a thought, the engineering focusing on speed and horsepower. if she roared like a lion when her engine was revved, who gave a frak about gas mileage? the classics are machines of power and beauty, not economy and ecology.
but more than the aesthetics and the raw power, classic cars give me a chance to reconnect with a past i never experienced, to bring my idea of a perfect existence in the past a little bit closer to the reality of the present. in the same way that wearing vintage polyester, watching a steve mcqueen flick or listening to ludicrous amounts of bad company makes me nostalgic for a time i never lived in, the thought of cruising around in a late '60s chevy makes my heart melt a little.
which is how i became a classic car stalker. haven't seen the dreamboat on the road yet, but there are beauties all over town. following here, my first victims...
1976 ford mustang(at the auto shoppe, burnet rd.)
1975 mercury monarch/1976 ford mustang(at the auto shoppe, burnet rd.)
1970 mercury cougar(at the auto shoppe, burnet rd.)
1970 chevy el camino(justin lane at airport)
1975 chevelle malibu(justin lane at lamar, behind a garage)
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