Jamey Dee AKA Helen Wheels
I sometimes think of myself as being addicted to linear speed. There are few things I enjoy as much as jumping into the car, cranking up the stereo, rolling down the windows (and nowadays, popping the panels off) and just driving--destination wherever the road takes me!
This is Jazz, my 1997 T-Top Camaro with a conscience (i.e., V-6), in gimme-a-ticket red. Don't be fooled, if I could have swung it, I'd have been an unconscienable beast and gone for the Z-28, but I couldn't do the t-top and pay for the Z-28 package. Living in Florida, how could I not go for a pop-the-top kinda car? There's a simple pleasure in stowing the panels and driving around the beach with the salt wind in your face. There's something ersatz I've always found with moon/sun-roofs, something uncommitted about the automatic tops on today's convertibles. When you stow your panels on a t-top, you've made a statement. There's no pressing a button and your roof closes; no pressing a button and your top pops on. It harkens back to the feel of a roadster. You're out there, exposed to the elements. If it rains, you're not going to only stop the car, you're going to have to physically get out of the car and put those panels back on. T-tops aren't for the wishy-washy. Call me sick, but I like that.
CHAZ the Man!
This is Charlie, my 1980 Monte Carlo, a muscle car with some style. I always liked the distinctive curves on the '79 and '80 models. (The new Monte Carlo is an imposter, a Lumina in disguise.) I miss the old tanks Detroit used to make. The Monte had a back seat big enough for an orgy and a trunk you could probably stow most of the population of Rhode Island (okay, that's an exaggeration--you'd probably have to puree them first), not to mention enough get up and go to take on the occasional street-racing punk. I drove Charlie for 16 abusive years, which included 3 accidents--one of them involving an 18-wheeler. It took Hurricane Opal to finally take the spunk out of Charlie--let's see how well YOU do when you've had a tree dropped on your head!
My Little Pony
::sigh:: Here he is, My Lil Pony, my once-upon-a-time 1969 Camaro. (The photography was taken by a student at the NAS Pensacola School of Photography.) I learned to drive in this car. The '69 was the kinda car that mechanics would make offers to buy when we'd take it in for a fill-up. The big, gas-guzzling V-8 would idle so high, you'd be doing 20 mph just taking your foot off the gas! (That's not a complaint, mind you!) The pleasant memories of driving this car made the decision to buy a new Camaro much easier!
Last modified 11-FEB-98.