The greatest day. Hellspawn sits in my lap and starts threading (yes!) lugnuts on the Focus. He was 2 years old. The Grinch's heart grew 4 times its size that day.
Photography Credit: David S. Wallens
When did the love affair start? In your 20s? High school? Grade school?
I got infected before I could walk–or even crawl, for that matter–and I recently saw the undeniable proof: a grainy 8mm home movie showing my mom carrying me from the car to the house upon my arrival from the hospital.
That car? My parents’ 1967 Pontiac GTO: four speeds, Posi rear, dog dish hub caps. The color was Tyrol Blue.
I never stood a chance.
Fast-forward to today and, yeah, I’m still playing with cars. And writing about them. And photographing them. I admit, it’s more than an occupational hazard.
Proud to say I have gotten this far without ever really owning a boring car. My most pedestrian set of wheels might have been the 1982 Accord that I drove through college. Mine was a blue-over-blue sedan. Five speeds, 13-inch steel wheels. It wore an SCCA sticker and knew the red clay at Road Atlanta.
My friend Steve had a gray one. It was what you drove back then if you didn’t have a Corolla or an Escort–just part of the humble mosaic surrounding every dorm on campus. These days, funny enough, an ’80s Accord would turn heads at Radwood.
Today we have the GRM Holy Trinity here at the house: Miata, 3 Series BMW and, our latest project car, a Mustang GT. Our Civic Si and Porsche 911 likely round out the Hot Five. My trick? Buy a cool car before it becomes a hot car. Then wait. And hope.
That lifetime spent with cars has stuffed my office with all manner of Hot Wheels, slot cars, 1/43-scale die-casts, unbuilt model kits, a few liberated chrome emblems, JDM magazines I’ll never be able to read, and all sorts of assorted automotive flotsam and jetsam.
[I found the raddest car collection … in my parents’ basement]
Do you keep your old event passes? I have a box of them. Keep or trash? Open to input there.
Lots of books, too. How to tune your Webers, old Autoworld catalogs, Norman Garrett’s Miata book. (When one of the engineers of the original Miata tells you how to make one faster, of course you score a copy.)
[What makes the perfect sports car?]
Oddities and rarities? I have them here, too. On a shelf: an old Ferrari 250 piston I bought at Monterey years ago for like 20 bucks. The following year, I picked up the matching valves. Somewhere I have a rolled-up periodic table featuring an extra square for Turbonium, Volkswagen’s secret sauce some 25 years ago.
I still have a few trophies from my faster days, but over the years, the mission has changed some. I still enjoy a Sunday at the track or between the cones, but now it’s a little less about scoring hardware and a little more about getting others involved–specifically the next generation.
Some of this past season’s most memorable events? Working with our younger staffers: getting Chris into our GTI, watching Colin gain confidence, wondering if Paris was going to outrun me.
[From behind the scenes to behind the wheel]
At a summertime Miata night in Orlando, I was approached by three people a bit younger in age: Can you tell us about autocross? Sure, I told them, noting that there was an SCCA event quickly coming up.
They said they’d be there. We’ve all heard that before, right?
I arrived at the site to find one registered and heading toward tech. I soon heard from the others: We’re at the gate and signing in.
Those two came just to watch.
Can we go for rides, too? she asked.
Yeah, I told her, just grab a loaner helmet from the trailer.
They did–and held onto those helmets all day, walking up and down grid while hopping from right seat to right seat. Out of an M3 and into a Supra. Repeat. Smiles. Never saw them break for lunch.
Before heading home–red, beat, tired–they took the obligatory photos of their Miatas before the majesty of Daytona International Speedway.
Mission accomplished, I figure.
The greatest day. Hellspawn sits in my lap and starts threading (yes!) lugnuts on the Focus. He was 2 years old. The Grinch's heart grew 4 times its size that day.
At our upcoming awards banquet we are honoring a elderly member who is the antithesis of pay it forward.
People like this have a much farther reach than they can ever imagine.
I had a long post written and deleted it. Let's just say I think the SCCA has a long uphill battle when it comes to attracting new members. They axed the only program aimed at youth. The continuing loss of large open parking lots is killing autocross in the same way if not as fast. That could be why the national office seems to be focused on TNIA and TT.
As a family, we have moved on to other forms of motorsports. I'll probably dump the Abomination, Mustang, and the wife's Miata in the near future. None of them has been driven in anger in over a year.
Probably 4-5? My dad had a '67 Fairlady Roadster he used to race at Hallett in the 80s when I was but a wee lad.
I need to go through this whole bag of pictures he brough me a while back. I know there is one in there of me around5 years old, polishing the outside of the car with mullett/rat tail flowing gracefully in the breeze.
Even at 16 when I got my '88 300ZX I started modding it. And I've had a number of cars since.
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