New Guy Notes: The 100 Minute Errand

[Robert Coats]

Hobby Town, USA is a solid 35 minutes away from my house here in Atlanta, and I needed to get some primer for a model kit I've been futzing with.

Of course, I took the 100 minute route...

...and shoe-horned two of my sons (9 & 13) plus another kid (10). Sunroof and windows open, we boarded my ’91 C4 and zipped north towards the mountains. I was intent on aggressively removing at least a few microns of tire rubber, but, as lunch time neared, and the kids interest shifted from fast curves to fast food, a deli inside a newly suburbanized grocery store held the last possibility of eats that were not deep fried or served with pork rinds, and so it was to be. I circled the lot three times for the "perfect" parking spot, and found it in an unusually wide plot right up front, better to keep an eye das P-car, the only non-truck/SUV for three aisles. As the boys ran inside to recon the food situation, I paused by the engine and gave it an inspection sniff…I smelled oil, which has been the case since I got the car back in late August. It’s a leak, but not a drip. It’s a weep, but not a pool. It’s an air-cooled Porsche, and I love it.

Inside, the smiling and quite friendly deli-ladies were eager to serve us hungry men folk and two of them interrogated us for our condiment selections. Their pastel frocks and hairnets, while instructional in nature, were in striking contrast to the delicious roast beef and spicy mustard we all ordered on our “ultimate” combo meals. Upon receiving the barcode sticker on each one, we headed for the umbrella tables. Even though this grocery store is part of a national chain, and the shopping center is new, the locals don’t seem too interested in embracing the civilized, suburban lifestyle. Cigarettes seemed to be mandatory for anyone over 14, and footwear was entirely optional. The young lass in front of us at the express lane, while quite attractive in her yellow halter-top, had only the flares of her jeans covering the tops of her feet, and a nasty black slime on the bottoms. I just LOVE the country life.

I’m still not quite used to the idea that people stop and look at my car. I used to own a couple of 1972 Corvettes, but that was 20 years ago, when I was a tomcat on the prowl. Today, I’m more of a neutered lap dog, and I get as nervous as a Chihuahua on uppers when people get close to the car. The boys made eye contact with me as they dumped their sandwich wrappers into the trash. They held onto the fountain drink cups, and it took only a modest scowl from me to communicate to them the prohibition of drinks in the P-car.

I’d only been to the hobby shop once, and as we made time, I saw a line of cars in front of me shift en masse to the left turn lane. I continued on straight, but realized the road I just crossed would take me directly to the highway I sought. I did not turn, knowing it would add at least another 20 minutes to our ride. The boys didn’t seem to mind, and urged me to tell them “how fast have you gone in this car, Dad?”

Finally made it to the shop, got the primer, and cruised the model car aisle. It had been decades since I’d built a kit, and it was with a slightly giddy feeling I discovered many of the kits of my youth had been reissued. I was a big fan of the hot rods and custom car by Roth, Morgan and Barris, and here they were all again. It was like hearing an old song, or finding a photo of an old girlfriend. I would soon find out, that nostalgia is a vicious liar.

[paulhagedorn]

Sounds like how I react when people walk near my car. It seems as if the mindset today is completely different. Before, everyone looking at a car would be admiring it. Now, some of them might contemplate stealing it, or scarring it out of jealousy.

All in all it is a nerve-wracking experience to see people give it the double take.

[Bill Douglas]

If you were going fast enough to loose a few microns of rubber off your tires, you're lucky the kids in the back didn't throw up.

[critter]

cool story!