The muscle car is back- well sorta - in a new millennium sort of way, but I still think the 2005 Dodge charger looks pretty bad ass (especially in burnt orange with black racing stripes) and I'm not so secretly turned on by the Mustang's return to the boxy, blunt nose. This has grabbed the attention of Holly's Boyfriend. "Since when did Holly like American gas guzzlers or have any interest in cars in general!?" Until recently, I've only expressed interests in owning a Prius and Flip-pac. That was until I made several trips back to Indiana this summer to visit my family. I came back pointing out every new mustang there was out on the highway. Holly's Boyfriend didn't seem to get it when I pointed out the finer details - the chiseled new lines, the lifted rear end. I don't remember any comment at all when I voiced my concerns that the new body would be ruined if was made available in yellow (I hate yellow cars and yellow flowers, but that's a different story).
So here is my explanation for what appears to be inexplicable - my fascination with muscle cars. Muscle cars are not smooth rides. You don't drive them slow so everyone can see you. You drive fast and they shake, rattle and roll. At stoplights the idling vibrates through your entire body. When I was about 7, my sister had a Chevy Nova. She'd put my brother and I in the back seat and we drove fast. She took us to the mall parking lot and took the curves so fast that we went up on 2 wheels (I'm not making this up). I'm pretty sure Blondie was blaring in the background. My oldest brother's friend, Jerry, had a Challenger. I could hear Jerry coming to get Don at least 2 blocks away. There was usually some tire squealing when they left. I had no idea where they were going, but I was sure it had to be someplace pretty bad ass in a loud, fast car like that. Then there was a MOPAR dry spell for several years - called the 80's.
I have a brother 3 years older than me and he likes cars...ALOT. Cary's first cars were a green, beat out Super Bee and my favorite a white 1970 GTX. I hated the super bee. It didn't have any heat, it was unreliable and I had to ride bitch to Cary's skank-ass girlfriend during our drive to school. I also was a jock, a cool kid. I didn't want to be seen arriving to school in that piece of shit and I didn't want to associated with Cary's skank-ass girlfriend. I'd rush away from them and the car a quickly as possible when we got to school. Then came the GTX... The doors were welded shut, but it did have heat. I balked at the whole door thing when it came time for me to climb in with a dress on, but I secretly loved feeling like the Dukes of Hazzard. He took out the back seat which meant his skank-ass girlfriend had to ride on my lap. So this car was sucking ass too as far as I was concerned. That was until my brother realized that if I could drive, he would have more time to feel up his girlfriend on the way to school. This is when the car became very cool.
My brother put in fiberglass racing seats, a racing steering wheel, a tachometer, new racing shifter, a Holley 4 barrel (which I helped rebuild), glass packs and a bunch shit I can't remember. It was fast - very fast, and there were alot of wide open country roads for me to learn to drive the thing on. I learned to drive 100mph and come to skidding halts. Cary told me all the tactics for street racing. I ignored him. That car was powerful and I got to drive and that's all that mattered. I wanted to be seen with that car in the parking lot. It was bad-ass, just like I was.
So do I actually want to buy a muscle car? No. Do I want to drive one 100mph down a straight dirt road? Very much so.
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