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.”
I want to thank everyone who has signed up for my
newsletter. I hope you enjoy reading it. If you know of someone who might enjoy
it, too, please email it to them. Thanks.
I also give programs for writing groups, reading groups, or
any group that’s interested. If you belong to a club, which needs program
speakers, keep me in mind.
You have permission to reprint, forward, or use the contents
of this newsletter in your newsletter or e-zine. The only requirement is the
inclusion of the following footer:
This article was written by Bob Avey, author of, Twisted
Perception, Beneath a Buried House, and Footprints of a Dancer. http://www.bobavey.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment