Let me say this about that.

No sir, you simply cannot come up with a topic for the adult American male that carries more raw emotion than a favorite car he owned  at some point in his youth.  For me, it was a 1970 Pontiac GTO  – “Goat”, to those uninitiated in the lexicon of muscle cars.  (That would include all you…   under-30, gender non-specific, tattooed, baggy pant wearing, spikey haired Metrosexuals). 

This beast was the perfect amalgamation of a 400 cu. in., testosterone burning, four barrel-breathing,  four-speed Hurst shifted “Cack-Wagon”.   (Don’t know what a “Cack-Wagon” is?  Go ask your granddad, you’ll make his day!).   Fat tires, hood scoops, bucket seats, and an exhaust system that sounded like the bass singer with the Temptations.  (Don’t know who the “Temptations” are?  Go ask your granddad, you’ll make his day).

What a great set of wheels to drive into the beginning of the so-called sexual revolution.  The “pill” was just coming into it’s own, HIV had not been invented yet and a band called “The Doobie Brothers” was formed.  What a great time to be a twenty-something.

Women enjoyed riding around in them, but they could never understand that special relationship guys had with their cars.  The car got washed every day – we put shoe polish on the tire side walls – we avoided driving through puddles les’t we splash mud up on the quarter-panel.  We never carried more than a half a tank of gas, just to keep the weight down for the inevitable challenge by another rival muscle car…..the evil Camero’s, the 442′s, the Trans Am’s, and the Hemi ‘Cuda’s.

We weren’t concerned about gas prices,  global warming, saving the whales, Middle East peace, high cholesterol, Dow Jones averages, carbon footprint, 401k’s or what the French thought about America.  Times were simpler then, so we could concentrate on just a few important issues.  We had only two priorties…….getting a hot muscle car and getting laid. 

Oh, take a chill-pill ladies.  You have been whining that you want more honesty in your relationships since you were 18 years old.  So now you have it – albeit 40 years later.  And don’t tell me you didn’t get more than a little sunshine pumped up your mini-skirt by riding around in one of these fire-breathing dragons.

Now be honest, ladies.  Say you have two guys of  approximately equal appeal.  But, one of them shows up at your door in a fire-engine red Corvette, and the other wheels up in a 4-cylinder Gremlin, roughly the color of a banana.   Which front seat are you gonna slide into?

Single people have understood the laws of “natural selection” since the days of the caveman.  If you are gonna get yours, you gotta look good doing it.  Guys understand it – girls understand it – everybody understands it…….except apparently those guys driving around in banana-colored Gremlins.

So what ride is the best car ever?  Go ask your grandad.  You really will make his day !!   Tell him to send us a comment as well.  We never tire of talking about cars.

And, that’s all I have to say about that.

Shambo