Since he was 16, my Augusta brother has had a thing for old, monster cars. He once tried rehabilitating an orange/red Ford Edsel. He got it to run but the Edsel never left the driveway until he sold her to an aging baby boomer with too much money and time. I think the best car he ever had was this GIGANTIC, convertible, Mercury Sable. It was a Loud!, Powerful! Sexy! 1966! Beast of a Machine! Between the backseats was a speaker that could “echo” the music. No seat belts or FM. Seated in the passenger seat, top down, riding along the country roads of Dartmouth, MA on summer afternoons was pure elation.
Today, Augusta brother owns a 1931 Ford Model A; not quite the sexy beast of memory but rather the fun jalopy your grandfather drove as a young, reckless punk. When Bro first purchased her, the car ran but needed some tender loving care; the upholstery was ripped and the body needed work. He has come a long way with it. This year he drove the Model A in the Augusta Independence Day Parade. I don’t think Detroit offers anything today that captures the same passion as their predecessors once did.