I come from a family of car guys (and ladies) but I’ve never been much more than a sideline admirer. I did enjoy riding in the cool cars my family had over the years, starting with my mom’s Roadrunner then my dad’s, which I scarred with my open 5-year old mouth resting on the [apparently pliable] dash1 during drive-in movie dates. And, my grandpa had a wrecking yard where I could routinely wander and treasure-hunt through the old cars, but I just as routinely avoided learning anything about the parts and mechanics and dull maintenance stuff.
However, I guess I was destined to keep having a car person in my everyday life because I eventually married the one who kept showing up to fix2 every junker I drove in college. He had already restored a Fiat in high school and was in the process of redoing his old Datsun pickup so I knew before our wedding day that he was That Kind Of Guy; during the 4+ years we dated, I was steadily schooled on Cobras and kit cars and all the peripheral details3 of his next vehicular endeavor. Yet as we began our Real Adult Lives in earnest4, he seemed a little concerned that I might not fully understand or support his car dreams so I wrote a decree then framed & presented it to him at Christmastime.
My man gamely attempted to teach me about all the things as he built & painted for many years but, as I have historically done with the car folk in my life, I preferred to sit back and simply appreciate5. I eventually helped with picking paint colors, inspired the second roll bar6 & heater, and offered vague opinions on wheels.
Somewhere around the spring of 2005 he finished building & painting his Cobra and we drove it in a local parade. And every time we’ve gone out since, people still smile & wave7 and I will smile & parade wave back (though we’re usually going a bit faster than 10 mph).
I love this car for the obvious reasons - it’s stunning to look at, is just the right timbre of loud & heart-racingly fast - but mostly because it beautifully represents a balance of my guy’s mechanical skills with his loving eye + heart for detail, with that detail including my comfort & joy.
(Thanks, babe)
When my dad had his car refurbished a few years ago, he specifically told them to leave that original dashboard with my bitemarks, officially relieving me of the intense shame I’d felt for being such a naughty little shit.
I did take him to an R.E.M. concert (and bought him a cute tank top there, though I guess that was more for me really) in exchange for frequent repair services.
Do not ask me anything specific, I retained nothing useful to talk about at car shows.
Buying a house, getting dogs, planning for kids…
Meaning, I sat nearby reading and occasionally offering praise.
Shockingly, a controversial choice for many [male] Cobra afficionados - they will criticize the inauthenticity in front of me, the passenger whose head sits by that extra roll bar.
…except for the time a guy confronted us about our “carbon footprint” as we parked in downtown Portland; we gave him a smile & parade wave when we walked away.
I look at that note often and know I am luckily to have you and the Cobra. Love you