If an inanimate object brought one out of a slump, considering one’s love for said object did not become obsessive, it would be a good thing, right?
I’ve always been a gearhead, a real car enthusiast. At the age of seven, I was one of those kids that attached baseball cards to the spokes of his bicycle, trying to replicate the sound of a motorized vehicle. By the age of twelve, I had a closet full of automobile magazines and a drawer full of accessories to use on my first car, which turned out to be a 1950 model Plymouth. I was fond of the Plymouth of course. However, I continued to save any money I could get from odd jobs until I had enough to get the car I’d had my eye on for some time: A 1957 Chevy. I quickly became the terror of Sand Springs, my hometown, the 283 C.I. power plant of the Chevy igniting my already fervent passion for the hobby, driving that is.
Looking back, my continuing quest for automotive power took a somewhat lengthy hiatus with the purchase and subsequent sale of a 1964 GTO. There were a lot of cars in between. I won’t go into it any deeper than passing on that my wife once told me that I really should contact the Guinness Book of World Records to claim the automobile- ownership title. I seriously considered it. Back, however, to my hiatus. You see, a few months before the GTO I’d become a husband and not long after that a father as well, the sequence of events leading to several dynasties of puttering around in economical, more family oriented sedans. I now shudder at the thought, wondering how I ever made it through such a mired-in-molasses automotive existence.
A series of recent events led to a true renaissance of spirit. As it turned out, my automotive passion had not died but had lain dormant for years only to be reawakened by another set of initials: BMW. Call the series an initialism, an acronym, a Beemer, a Bimmer; break it out into Bavarian Motor Works, or Bayerische Motoren Werke, it matters not.
Those of you who follow me on Facebook know that I put 227,000 miles on my latest economic puttering mobile before deciding it was time for an update. I didn’t set out to get a BMW, though I did mention to my wife, Kathi, that it would be nice to acquire something a little sportier for a change. I toyed with the idea of a Corvette, and actually drove a Porsche Boxster and a few Mustangs before Kathi reminded me that, with our son, David, being with us, having a four-door was more practical. I truly thought my perusal into piston powered passion had been empirically quashed. Sadly I again began to search for something sensible. As fate would have it, I was checking the internet for possibilities of transportation when I ran across an ad for a BMW at a lot in Broken Arrow. It was just down the street. I informed Kathi that I’d found a possibility and asked if she’d like to join me for a test drive.
A few minutes later, we climbed into the BMW then pulled out of the lot and onto the street. It didn’t take long before I had to fight to keep a silly grin from spreading across my face. The car handled like a sports car, and purring beneath the hood of this conservative-looking ride was a true power-plant. I kept glancing at Kathi to see if she’d caught on yet. I felt like a kid holding a cookie jar effectively disguised as a can of vegetable cocktail. I leaned closer to tell her that I thought this might be a possibility, but it came out as, “I gotta have one of these.”
I didn’t buy the car we test drove. The interior was pretty trashed out. But it was enough to let me know what to set my sights on. A few weeks later, I found a fairly nice BMW in my price range located in Oklahoma City. Every time I fire this thing up and put it through its gears, I still can’t believe it. For all of you responsible conservatives out there, nurturing a latent need-for-speed, there’s no need to sell the farm and shoehorn yourself into a Ferrari. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But don’t let the four doors fool you. This thing is the real deal.
Kathi has caught on by now and she is cautiously okay with it. She even commented that she likes my recent change in attitude. It seems I’m behaving a bit younger now.
Some might shake their head, thinking this is some kind of midlife thing, but those of you who know me well know that it isn’t. God does indeed work in mysterious ways, and I thank Him daily for instilling in me an insatiable curiosity, an adventurous spirit, and an unquenchable zeal for life.
In the immortal words of The Big Bopper, “Ah baby that’s a what I like.”
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This article was written by Bob Avey, author of, Twisted Perception, Beneath a Buried House, and Footprints of a Dancer. http://www.bobavey.com.