Every story has to start somewhere, so let’s start at the beginning — your beginning. What car ruined your brain forever? What was the car that made you an absolute drain on your friends and family’s patience, and unapproachable at parties except for that one also alone guy in the Gambler 500 t-shirt?
Cars are like a drug, and like any good drug, you get hooked on that first free hit and then spend all your money chasing that first great high. But like in a curios shop in a Ray Bradbury story, with cars you pay with more than just money; there’s the bent-back fingernails, oil-stained clothes, and the false hope that this time, this time, spending another few hundred bucks that will finally get that rust-bucket running. It’s a difficult existence, but it’s ours. So, how’d you get sucked into The Life?
Thunderbirds, Go!
OK, hear me out. The Ford Thunderbird, to a seven-year-old child, is extremely cool. It’s all chrome, and fins and shinny objects. But the late ’50s ones are my favorites, from back when automakers had a little thing called style. Two-tone paint, wild colors with interiors to match, these cars stole my little kid heart. Every car show my dad took us to, he’d take a picture of us standing next to our own personal Best In Show. We’d scour the parking lots and fields for our perfect find. The result? Dozens of pictures of little ol’ me standing awkwardly in front of Thunderbirds of every shade and model year.
Apparently, liking a car turned into reading about it, going to more car shows, and spending immeasurable amounts of time at the Henry Ford Museum. For me, the Thunderbird was the ultimate gateway drug. From then on I was hooked, and haven’t stopped since. What about you?
