It’s Thursday 5 0’clock PM.  A mini crisis shortened my day at the office.  Fortunately the crisis evaporated.  I celebrated by pouring myself a Blue Moon. I soak up the suns warmth and cooler air temps, a harbinger of Fall.  I felt the nudge of Fall yesterday, hanging out for a while at Park on Park.  The late afternoon September light is softer.  The days grow shorter.  I took a few photos and had a interesting conversation with a guy who owned a 1965 tri-power GTO.

The second Wednesday of the month, May through September my home town hosts  a Cruise Night for pre 1977 street rods.  Park Avenue and Seymour Avenue are closed down from 3PM.  Village public works staff the event, direct traffic.  Last night was the final “show” of the season.  There were easily over 250 cars of all types parked in their slots.  I confess that I am a gear head.  I appreciate the passion required to conceive and construct a race car or a street rod.  Yesterday seemed too much though.   In the heyday of the muscle car, there may have been five or six, and at the most a dozen, on any fall evening in the parking lot at Honeys Drive In.  The automobiles offered mobility, excitement, danger, and with luck, help with leveraging a date.  Friday and Saturday evenings were spent driving between Honeys on one side of town, and the Blue Light on the other, with much conversation and laughter in between.  Once in a while the car talk would get out of hand.   One would challenge another to prove he had the better machine.  Both would pull out of the Honeys parking lot onto Guess road and up the ramp to I-85.  The race would be on, as long

as necessary to prove who had the faster car.  Or the stronger set of nerves.  It might be Jimmy Clark with his 326 Pontiac 4 speed LeMans against James House’s blue 2+2 Mustang fastback.  On occasion a 440 Plymouth GTX or a 389 tri-power GTO might show up.  Those big dogs were rare because they were expensive.

So, I walked around the cruise night with my memories.  I couldn’t help notice that many of those with a car at the event, or those present to simply enjoy were in their 60s.  Most definitely it was a conclave of Seniors.  One more thing troubled me.  The cars by and large were show queens.  Built to run, with nowhere to go.  Circumstances have changed drastically since the 1960s as time is always moving on, change is a given.  Yet, it is a shame that the adventure, the

adrenaline rush has been reduced to parking for a while at a cruise event and afterward every one goes home.

I did have a bit of relief for my attack of nostalgic regret.  A car unloaded from a trailer, proved to be one of the Reher Morrison Pro Stock Camaro’s that lit up NHRA events not that long ago.  The 500 cubic inch full race engine was fired and the car was carefully driven forward and then backed into it’s parking slot.  The raw exhaust note and smell of racing gasoline made a wordless statement.  I thought to myself, Now that’s a weapon!

Bruce bring us home.  “Tonight we’ve gonna ride, and wash these sins off our hands…”