- When Dad brought home his new 1955 Chevy 210 with it's 265 V-8, I was home sick from kindergarten. As the story goes, I insisted on running outside to look at the Chevy's "scream", a descriptive I had generated to describe the Ferrari-inspired grille of the new model, which made me think of a window screen-- proof positive that at age 5, I was already a motor head. As I grew, my paper route partner saved all his income for college, while I spent most of my share on car models; I had 2' square a cardboard box overflowing with leftover parts which occasionally yielded a post-apocalyptic sedan or coupe pasted together from many kits. Ever since I plunked $250 down on my first vehicle a '55 Packard Patrician with full length torsion bars, I have spent way too much of my income on old cars, and continue to read about them voraciously, often falling to sleep with a 50 or 60 year old copy of Road and Track slipping out of my hand.
Curbside Classics Archives