#scottsfab50. A 50 day exercise in thankfulness. Day 39. I’ll admit it. I’m a car guy. And I’m thankful for that. Back on Day 12, I wrote about food. I noted: “I have occasionally met people for whom food is simply fuel, a required part of being alive, like breathing or sleeping. I have never understood those people.” I’m much the same with cars. I have a passionate relationship with my transportation. When people say the car doesn’t matter, it’s just a way to get back and forth, I wonder what that must be like. As with most men, my love of cars started with my father. Dad Piehler grew up in car culture that was so ably reflected in “American Graffiti.” He used to race at Long Island Speedway. Very early, I learned that there were cars, then there were fast cars, and fast cars were better! I also got my love of “sleepers” from Dad. Hey, if you’re into the custom look, spoilers, visible mods, etc., more power to ya. Me? I prefer stealth. No need to advertise. It also has the advantage of not attracting the attention of every chucklehead who’s memorized the “Fast & Furious” series. And is under the mistaken impression that VTEC means fast. (Sorry, Honda-lovers. It’s variable valve timing. Pretty much every 4-cylinder worth its salt has that.) The cars in my family all have names. My Volvo C30 is Loki. Not after the Marvel character, but after the Norse god of mischief. Our Ford Freestyle is Jenny. It’s a bad pun. Jenny Thompson is a gold-medal swimmer from New Hampshire. Her best event? The freestyle. Our red Volvo V40 was Mac, named for my grandmother, Charlotte McNeil (Gram to me, Mac to the rest of the world). Our Plymouth Laser was Maxine, owned a Dodge Shadow named Kent (after one of the alter-egos of “The Shadow”), and a Ford Escort named Sydney. An Escort named Sydney? Of course. If you remember your recent history, you might remember Sydney Biddle-Barrows. Hey, I’m not above a bad joke. You should know that by now. My first car didn’t come until college was almost over. I rode motorcycles before then. Started with a Honda Trail 90. Owned a series of Suzukis after that: a pair of two-stroke road bikes (500cc twin, 750cc triple), then eventually a 750cc four stroke. Kept that one until I moved to Atlanta. Two trips on I-85 was all it took to get me off of two wheels. My first car was a 1986 Mercury Lynx. Basically an Escort Hatchback, buying it was another example of connections. I got a discount from a car dealer that advertised on the radio station I was working at at the time: WHEB in Portsmouth, NH. After that, a 1990 Dodge Shadow, then a 1995 Escort Wagon. Bought my stepdad’s 1990 Plymouth Laser RS-Turbo in 2000-that was Tamar’s car. 2004-replaced the Escort with the V40. 2006-The Laser was replaced by the Freestyle. 2012-The V40 went to Amanda, and the C30 came home from Sweden. So, if you know your cars, you will realize that I’ve never owned a car with a trunk. Hatchbacks, wagons, crossovers. I adore the utility. Additionally, I’ve never owned an 8-cylinder vehicle. (And with the current advances in engine tech, I probably never will.) Including the motorcycles, I’ve owned vehicles with one, two, three, four, five (yes, my C30 is a 5-cylinder), and six cylinders. I am also a turbo-freak. I have owned 4 turbo-charged vehicles, including the current C30. They’re not just faster, to me it’s a safety feature. Learning the rules of the road on two wheels, you quickly realize that acceleration will get you out of a lot of problems. To me, the added punch of a turbo from an on-ramp is reason enough. My family taught me well in this area. Dad taught me to look for the less common cars, the ones with great performance that for whatever reason, the public overlooked. Mom Despins taught me how to make sure I was getting a good deal. Uncle Dave Bourguignon always kept his cars looking great, and taught me much of what I know about cleaning a car. And my step-Dad Phil to this day is a meticulous maintainer of his vehicles. If he ever has a vehicle for sale: buy it. It’s in exquisite shape. Trust me. When you’re a car guy, every trip is an adventure. Always on the lookout for the exotic, the unusual. I read Motor Trend, so it’s always a blast to see some high-end rig “in the wild.” Makes those long trips fly right on by. My friend Dave Langdon gets it. He specializes in vintage muscle. The man knows his stuff. One of his daughters is an ace mechanic. Maybe it’s because Dave & I grew up in a town where the main employer supplied the Auto Industry. Cars are quite literally a lifeline. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that I am now squarely a “Volvo guy.” Eventually, Tamars Freestyle will be replaced, likely by a Volvo XC-60. Then, the entire family will be in a Volvo. And if you think that means we’ve gotten boring, you obviously have never checked out my C30. 227hp turbocharged 2.5 in a compact hatch? Yeah, it’s my sleeper. So, it might seem silly to you, but I’m thankful for an appreciation of the automobile. And, having lived through the absolute worst era in automotive history (late ‘70s-early ‘80s) I am thankful to be living in a new Golden Age of cars. Hybrids, electrics, high-performance: we’ve never had more choices. They’ve never been cheaper (expressed as percentage of income), they’ve never performed better, never gotten better mileage, and never lasted longer. Folks used to announce to all the neighbors when they got a car past 100,000 miles. Now? Meh. There is nothing more American than the feeling of a full tank of gas. When I fill up and see the “Miles to Empty” number, I always think “Hmm, where could I go?” And for that feeling, I am thankful.
Posted on: Sun, 20 Jul 2014 13:14:13 +0000
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