Not a vintage car

The 1950 Plymouth convertible was so tempting. I was ready to buy and journey 1200 miles to bring it home.

Then I ran into a group of folks and their vintage cars.  They were at a roadside stop just hanging out.  Six shiny cars from 1930’s and ’40s.  All shade tree mechanics and their wives…just sitting, sunning and waiting.

They had already filled their requisite trailers with two cars that gave up the ghost on their 45 mile adventure.  They were waiting for a third trailer because the 1937 Ford died and no one had the right tools to fix it on the road side.  They told me they always travel in groups and always towed a trailer or two for this specific reason; best to have lots of experienced mechanics along.

These wise and waiting people also told me they had no luck finding a dependable local mechanic.  They relied on one another and one or two independents in their town.  They knew of no one in my town.   And no one volunteered to be my maintenance hero.

Others had told me the same thing.  Driving a vintage car was always mechanical roulette. They are for fun and for the joy of ownership, but if I didn’t have the expertise or access to expertise, it would be a disappointing and expensive experience.

My love of cars is not diminished because I don’t own a vintage beauty.  Instead, I opted for a classic car that had a strong local following AND many excellent, highly regarded local mechanics.

1997 Porsche Boxster – what a ride.

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