Road trip into a simpler, nicer time
Old-timers in classic cars and trucks attracted a whole lot of smiling strangers
If it has a motor, I’m interested. Be it a Peterbilt, Kenworth, Volvo or any big rig I’m interested. Same goes for classic cars/trucks or hot rods.
I’m intrigued to know what it took to make the vehicle. I am not one bit interested in trailer queens. I like the real McCoy. Vehicles were built to be driven, to be used and enjoyed. I love ‘drivers’, which I personally enjoy on my vacation time.
Last month, I joined over 40 like-minded old-timers in a 5,000-kilometre road tour through five of the United States. We call ourselves the ‘Can Am Curmudgeons,’ and are a mix of Canadians and Americans classic car/trucks and hotrod owners/caretakers who like to drive. This trip was our fifth, and we did we some serious exploring.
We also made a whole mess of strangers smile and wave as we drove by. Strangers just suddenly appeared too, when we parked for a meal or end of day. It made our trip more meaningful.
It was 10 days of going back to the 1960s, when times were so much simpler, and people so much nicer. Folks had time to say please and thank you, and wave with five fingers instead of just one.
Our vehicles ranged in age from 1928 up to a sweet ’66 Vette, and an AC Cobra. In between were hot rods from the Thirties to fat fender Fords and Chevys from the Forties, a couple of ’60’s Mopars and even three tri-5 Chevys.
All had been restored, usually by the driver, and all had been painted in a colour that worked for that vehicle. Red, blue, yellow, green. All the colours of the rainbow, not the boring four basic colours of today’s computer designed vehicles, black, white, grey and silver.
We were a long rolling flash of ever changing colour that made strangers stop, look and listen. They remembered something from their past, as each vehicle conjured up a long forgotten memory, and the smiles broke out. Time after time, town after town, state after state.
There were no borders. Everyone was our new best friend, and we 40 guys wouldn’t have missed it for a second.
The other aspect of such a road trip was the fact most of the drivers are retired. No agenda. No need to get home by such-and-such a date. Come home when your trip is over. Most of us took the long way home. Why not?
We came from all walks of life and industry. Rednecks to multimillionaires. We didn’t care. If you had grease under your fingernails, and a rag hanging outta the back pocket of yer jeans, then you were one of us. We used those rags. We had issues along the way, but we were never alone.
The rule of the road tour was no more than five vehicles stop for any disabled vehicles. Those issues ranged from a blown rear end on a ’32 roadster, a ’28 T blowing a rod and a head gasket, to transmission lines ripped off by a rock on the road, to a punctured oil pan by another rock, to a blown front tire at highway speed, to my own problem of an exhaust manifold coming loose and burning the gasket, making it sound as though the engine was throwing a rod.
I lost count of the number of vehicles that had gasoline vapour locks as we crossed over two very serious mountain passes that make our province’s mountain passes seem like a drive in the park. One mountain pass had snow falling just hours after we had crossed over. Somebody was watching over us old dudes.
We battled smoke from forest fires. We even had to change one overnight reservation because firefighters had taken over our motel, but we didn’t care. We were a rolling car show.
Motel owners were happy to give us a deal if we parked in their lot, as folks showed up to “ohh & ahh.”
The only negative of the whole trip was a car restorer, based in Salt Lake City, decided not to keep his word, and was nowhere to be found when we showed up, on time, for our promised guided tour. So, we drove, en masse to a steak house, and made that owner one happy businessman.
Who ever said, “you can’t go back in time” has never driven a hotrod or classic vehicle on a road tour.
I could fill a newspaper with stories about life on the road, but why not share yours? Send them to Driving editor Andrew McCredie at amccredie@postmedia.com