My ultimate dream car is a 1955 Chevy convertible in two-tone, preferably green and white (but who am I kidding, any color would do) with white wall tires. The big, yet skinny steering wheel, the push button radio, the hood ornament, the headlights, the tail fins, the cavernous front seat. . . I’m getting misty-eyed just thinking about it. Yes, I know, they’re not exactly “road friendly” but I suppose some updates to it would do the trick, because I would drive this – everywhere. I would eagerly take this car over any other car that could be offered to me. Of course, I just have to dream about, and drool at seeing, classic cars when I get the chance, because I think the chance of me ever having one is slight to non-existent.
In general, though, I love classic cars. They are nostalgic and just, look cool. Modern cars have nothing on the cars of the past (in my opinion). I understand the design of most new cars, they’re aerodynamic, they’re about fuel efficiency (some anyway), and try and embody “future aesthetics.” While automakers are trying to make the cars sleek and new and more futuristic, they just end up seeming dull. There seems to be very little personality in cars today (I think this trend seems to have started in the 1980s).
The 1950s were a decade for cars to be extravagant and fun. It was a time for indulgence after the rationed 1940s (though their cars were divine too) and after coming out of World War II. It’s no wonder they seemed to go all out and enjoy the designing of cars.
The 50s were prosperous and therefore quite decadent. Air travel was a blossoming commercial business and started to fascinate the population. Cars began to take on this fascination. The tail fins and side chrome are reflections of an airplane. These cars were the promise that every day while driving, you too, could have some of the excitement and speed of streaking across the sky in a jet, only in your very own car.
These cars definitely have personality. Some may also call them “boats,” but that’s part of why I love them. They are big, they are ornate, and they saunter through the streets saying, “Here I come, please step aside.” They have an air of cool about them. Though they are very noticeable they don’t seem to come across as too flashy or desperate, but confident and fun.
And while they may not smoothly glide down the road like a new car, nor are they probably the safest vehicles, I can’t imagine how much fun they must be to drive. I see many classic cars cruising down the 101 where I live, and have a hard time not swerving into other cars because I’m mesmerized by these beauties. I don’t even try to hide my wide-eyed envy, but fully take in every curve, glimmer, and angle of the cars. I’ve never had the chance to ride in a classic car, but wonder if the owners I see in my area would think I was weird if I asked for a ride. They probably get asked that a lot, right?
I can picture myself, with the top down, a scarf over my hair, sunglasses on, wearing a full skirt dress, and driving gloves leisurely gripped on the enormous steering wheel while lazily making my way down the coast with the pelicans making pace in the air above the car. “Rockin’ Robin” would drift out from the car while the ocean breeze caressed my face and the interior of the car and while the sun warmed the seat and reflected off of the chrome. . .
Anyone else have a classic dream car? Own a classic car? Or just have an interesting story about one?