Yesterday, there were lots of nice comments about cars. It seems as though many people fall into two camps, those who view them as solely means of conveyance and those who hold some kind of sentimental attachment to a vehicle. I think I'm somewhere in the middle on this one. For the most part, I side with people who use them to get around. I drive a very generic car today, a silver 2007 Toyota Corolla. It's pretty much like half the cars on the road out here. Actually exactly like them. Not too long ago, I stood for about 10 seconds in a parking lot pointing my key remote at my car, wondering why the doors weren't unlocking until I realized that I was standing with my back to my car looking at the exact same car parked next to mine.
My first car was a 1968 VW Karmann Ghia. I bought it with money I had saved delivering newspapers and doing odd jobs. Of course I wasn't the original owner and the thing had some quirks. Some of the drives to school in the morning were a little chilly, I could only listen to AM radio, and I would get passed by tractor trailers when going up hill, but I still have a fondness for that little car.
(1968 Karmann Ghia from VW promotional materials)
I can't figure out if it's because it was my first car, if it brings back good memories of driving so low to the ground, or if there is just something about having to struggle a little with the elements and imperfect machinery that seems lost by today's noiseless, climate controlled, perfectly comfortable cars that you never really need to work on, find parts for, or tinker with.
I don't know what it is, but I always find myself smiling whenever I hear the distinctive put-put of a of a VW engine or I see a Ghia drive by.