Driver Seat  //  May 2008

Does Your Car Own You?

 

As passionate as we sometimes are (yes, I am guilty, too) about our cars, it’s easy to forget who owns who. You have to be careful not to get so wrapped up in the restoration of your pride and joy that your classic begins to own you. Here are some warning signs:
-If you lay awake at night and you can hear those faint calls coming from the garage “please come out and work on me!”
-If your wife and kids forget your name when you finally come in the house.
-If when you meet someone new, you show them pictures of your car instead of your kids or grandkids.
-If you cannot go out to eat unless there is a place you can park the car and sit in the restaurant and be able to look right at it.
-Your UPS or FedEx delivery guy starts to resemble Johnny Cash.
-You take your shoes off before going for a drive.
-You apologize to the car before you sit on its seats.
-If you have to make a choice between new tires for your car and new shoes for your kids...it’s an agonizing decision.
-When you and your wife run into your high school girlfriend at a car show, you introduce her to your car by its name, but you can’t remember your wife’s name.
-If you give the car an actual name or refer to it as a “her.”
-You tell people when and where your car was “born” instead of when and where it was built.
-You consider taking out a second mortgage just to be able to afford to build the car.
-When someone is backing their car out of the space behind you; you stand between their car and yours…to protect your baby!”
While I often preach the value of staying on task and sticking with your project faithfully until it is done, just remember there are more things to life than working on the old Chevy. The late Tom Trainor once advised me not to let my hobby or job get in the way of spending time with family and kids. He regretted not spending more time with his boys when they were young and admitted that he “spent just a bit too much time out in the shop.” This advice has stuck with me and continues to curb the amount of time that I both spend at work and play with my cars!
Remember, it’s only a man-made hunk of iron, glass and rubber. It’s not a person. It does not feel pain. Its feelings don’t get hurt. Now I must go…someone in the garage is calling for me!