Cars & Coffee & Family

I went to my first Cars and Coffee (er, Coffee and Cars at the time,) when I was fifteen years old. Cupcake started going at approximately the same time (although I doubt I ran into him unknowingly that one Porsche weekend. American Muscle is much more his thing.) Now that Cars and Coffee has grown dramatically in the years since Cupcake and I first went with our dads, three year olds run across the parking lot holding the hands of young fathers and run up to cars, hands outstretched, until they hear “Don’t touch it!” and clasp their small hands tightly behind their back. They push their faces as close to a window as they can without leaving tiny nose prints on the glass. Wide-eyed, they look at the cars like they are magic. They are future car people in the making.

Since Cars and Coffee is very family-friendly, costumed cars are not unheard of. Ghostbusters stopped by several weeks ago and posed for pictures in front of their dressed-up Hyundai and Kia. Faux-tina cars gain lots of attention and always have people standing around discussing the engines and faux-tina technique. Since the costumed cars don’t require a deep understanding of the inner workings of the cars themselves to be appreciated, they tend to attract even the people who only attend the event for someone else.

This is not to say that the expensive sports cars and tricked out muscle cars go unappreciated. No, they’re the whole reason the event exists! So cars like the Shelby Cobra also stay constantly in the spotlight. Car people particularly like to talk about them, especially when they are related to the designer (ie. Mr. In-Law and Cupcake).

First, they tell the naive passerby (aka me) that any time you hear a shouted cuss word at a car show, it is probably someone forgetting to step far enough away from the car to avoid burning his or her leg on the exhaust under the door. Then they point out how the seat was angled sideways to give the driver more room. Finally, they mention that the two unusual stripes (yellow in this case) allowed the pit workers to tell which car was theirs during a race. (Mr. In-Law knows a laundry list of other nifty details about the car, but rather than overwhelm me, he and Cupcake left me with these three new tidbits of information to add to my automotive knowledge.)

So whether the attendees of Cars and Coffee are related to famous automotive designers or just want to instill an appreciation of cars in their young children, even small weekends provide something to look at. In the end, it’s all about family.

Good Guys, Part 3

Cupcake, Mr. In-Law, and I headed to the side of the autocross track where we had a good view of every rumbling machine that pulled into line at the gate’s entrance. The pungent aroma of racing fuel and burnt rubber was slightly overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the occasional cigarette held by one of those carefree individuals who happily filled his and his neighbor’s lungs with wispy white smoke. (Thankfully these individuals were few at the Goodguys show. After all, fire and gasoline don’t exactly mix.)

Our vantage point happened to be next to a black tent housing a table covered in clipboards, helmets, and wind-swept propaganda. The trim wrinkled woman working the booth simultaneously passed out waivers to let young hopefuls ride with a ‘professional’ for a lap around the autocross track, took money to raise funds for a children’s charity, and chased down matte black helmets to attach to the passengers’ heads. A grandmother stepped out from under the tent and stood next to us so she could watch the excitement on her grandson’s face when he rattled in the passenger seat of a stranger’s car around the track. She turned to us and her vivid spring-colored sweater reflected the sun back towards our eyes. She told Mr. In-Law how she and her grandson had gone to the Goodguys car show together every year for the majority of his life. It was now his 16^th birthday, so she was happy to pay the $20 fee for him to ride autocross. Grandmother knew the mother wouldn’t be happy when she found out her son had been hastily strapped into a passenger seat and then flown around curves, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. The grandson had a truck he and his daddy had been working on for years, which Grandmother was pleased to say kept him out of trouble. Mr. In-Law responded with a reference to the pieces of an ’81 Trans Am neatly dispersed around their garage. (It was intended to be Cupcake’s 16^th birthday present, and they started work on it when he was 13. Four years later, the unused tires were rotted with copper wires poking out, the pristinely painted hood was wrapped in a towel and sitting on a shelf, and the interior consisted of a shiny anti-inflammatory lining and a massive roll-bar system. Car parts don’t come cheap.)

The grandson nervously smiled as his driver rolled to the starting line and revved the engine to make sure it was warm. The worker waved his arm, the timer started, and the car took off. It seemed to slowly turn around the corners and barely make progress on the straight-aways. I then looked at the average speeds for cars going around the track and realized that if I tried to make that sharp of a turn at 60 miles per hour in my truck, I would be skipping sideways through all the cones and rolling like a log so that the pretty black paint job would be completely scratched off. I had a little more respect for the low, heavy rumblers then.

By the time the grandson stepped out of the car and made it to his grandmother, his grin was much more relaxed. He did the usual 16-year-old-boy side-hug-grandma thing, but they both were obviously pleased. I don’t think the boy really cared what his mother had to say this time.

Photo courtesy of Cupcake

Riding in a Jeep

For the majority of my life, my favorite car ride ever was probably sitting on the metal backseat of a half-restored Jeep in fifth grade. The red paint was faded, the interior was stripped to the basics, and the car was completely open except for the roll bar. My friend and I bounced and squealed with wind whipping our faces the whole five miles to the restaurant. However, I generally avoided telling the men in my life that this trip was my favorite as they would probably all be horribly offended.

Though I still fondly remember this trip across town as a middle schooler, memories of the In-Law’s red Jeep have overwhelmed the original memory. I particularly remember the first time Cupcake lowered the cloth roof and we hopped in the car to explore the back roads around my house, rather than take up space in the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner. The day was sunny and warm, and as Cupcake found how all the roads connected, I embraced the wind and let my hair fly all over my head. (I did decide that I should probably wear a baseball hat in future. I have not yet tested this theory adequately.) We laughed and analyzed all the houses we could see. I squealed way too much at the cows watching us drive by. It was a nice break from the hectic holidays.

Photo Courtesy of Cupcake

Kars for Kids and Coppertone

“You’re gonna burn. You’re gonna burn. Hey, you’re gonna burn!”

I had no clue who the woman sitting under the pop-up tent was yelling at, nor did I know if she was referring to the sun or the state of someone’s eternal soul. But the back of my mind had a couple of things to say about her comments. Your skin is burning, it told me. Whether she’s talking to you or not, you need sunscreen! The front of my mind had a couple of good rebuttals. Well, we’re walking away from the car, it replied. We probably won’t be here too much longer. We’re staying in the shade. I’m sure it will be fine.

Then Cupcake spotted a Daytona Coupe pulling into the open field on the other side of the event. So, further into the sunshine we ventured! At noon. When the sun is brightest.

My neck now looks as red as my dress. Please, learn from my mistake and put on sunscreen. Even though the spray stinks and it makes your skin sticky and you feel dirty the rest of the day, at least you won’t be Sebastian from The Little Mermaid for the next month.

Sun aside, Kars for Kids was really cool! Though Cupcake and Mr. In-Law told me how the fundraiser used to take up the whole field in front of the Tennessee Baptist Children’s Home, the rows of cars that did come last Saturday impressed me. American cars took up the majority of the spaces (thank you, Corvettes and Camaros,) but there were a few really nice foreign cars there, too.

For Daddy’s sake, I’ll mention the Porsches first. Cupcake might have been right that I didn’t know the 1600 Speedster was a Porsche until I saw the symbol, but the gorgeous paint and interior definitely caught my eye. And those styling details are exactly why Daddy and Bro say everyone wants one.

Most of the cars we saw deserve posts all to themselves. I learned the difference between the looks of Corvette generations and their Z06 or Stingray options, where the term “trunk” came from, how certain older cars used metal springs hanging off the bumper to protect whitewall tires, and that you can take a severely rusted 1956 Buick Roadmaster and turn it into a gorgeous car straight out of the movies. All of this, and the money helped provide for the kids living there.

Truly, car people are some of the most charitable people I know.

Dodge Demon

Dodge has released their new edition for the Challenger: the Demon.

Picture from roadandtrack.com

Even Bro, who far prefers exotic foreign cars and the Porsche 918, talked about this Dodge Demon all weekend. Of course, Cupcake was already aware of this Challenger’s new features. It’s a muscle car that any car guy can get excited about.

Most excitingly, the Demon can do a wheelie. A wheelie. The car is designed for drag racing, and they included all sorts of random features to make that quarter-mile unbelievable. In addition to its wheelie capabilities, the car’s 0-60 time beat records for exotic cars that are far more expensive. The car potentially beats the Tesla Model S, which Motortrend  had already labeled the fastest accelerating car.

All in all, car people are very impressed. As Bro says, it’s a toy. It brings out the kid in all of us.

Don’t Say Mustang

The most important piece of advice Cupcake had for me about this blog was quite simply, “Don’t say mustang.” Now, he admits that many car fans appreciate the Mustang and think it is a fine car. He just knows that the first car that people who don’t know anything about cars like to talk about so that they sound like they know something about cars is the Ford Mustang.

To simplify:

People who don’t know about cars talk about the Mustang to impress those who do know about cars.

The people who know about cars are usually not impressed.

So when you are talking to your car person this weekend and trying to show how much you love them by conversing about cars, please, for the sake of your sanity and the longevity of your relationship with this car person, for the sake of the thirty minutes of your life that will be lost while you get lectured on “real cars,” for the sake of your ears, please…

DON’T SAY MUSTANG.

Photo Courtesy of Cupcake (and a random stranger’s car)

Reformed Rust

An interesting trend I have noticed at local car shows is painting old cars to look like they are rusted without actually being rusted. My favorites are painted teal with reddish brown edges.

It’s really a fascinating technique. If you look closely, you can see layers upon layers of purples, reds, oranges, and browns. Even the teal has multiple layers of darker and lighter shades.

This particular truck even tricked out the interior entirely in denim! You can see the jeans pockets on the seats and the roof.

Whether you think rust is the worst thing ever or a really cool look, the amount of time and effort that people invest in these pretend-rust cars calls for respect. It’s truly an impressive art.

Cars and Coffee, Corvette City

Cupcake and I parked in the movie theater parking lot and walked towards the clumps of people at the other end of the aisle. The last weekend in March was comfortably cool and incredibly windy. I fit in the old lady group wearing sensible shoes, comfortable denim, and long sleeves. We also all had hair blowing in our faces. (Car shows are not places I recommend wearing sticky lip gloss.) I looked around at the block of cars about four aisles wide and wondered where everyone was. Cupcake explained that since it wasn’t the first weekend of the month, most of the exotics stayed home. At the other weekends I had been to, cars filled up the whole movie theater parking lot. This event mainly seemed to be Corvette City.

American cars occupied most of the lot this weekend. A couple of people drove their Porsches, their MGs, and their BMWs. One Nissan 370Z slid into the parking lot and a Bentley rolled in an hour after the event started. Most of the high dollar cars stayed home. The Corvette section, however, took up a whole corner.

The Z06s are my favorite Corvettes, which I believe makes Cupcake happy. To me, the black detailing looks sharp and the stingray looks sporty. To Cupcake, the Z06 goes incredibly fast. Who needs more than that?

Mr. and Mrs. In-Law own the silver C6 Corvette. Mrs. In-Law drove me to the store in it once while Cupcake planted a mailbox, and we enjoyed riding with the top down in the sunshine. Our hair didn’t even get that messed up by the wind! The blue C7 Stingray Corvette was a beautiful, eye-catching color. I thought it was a Z06 until Cupcake pointed out that the arrow package was different. (The arrow package is the splitter, the spoiler, and other design elements that make the Z06 handle better than any other Corvette.)

Maybe there were more to Corvettes than I realized.

Good Guys, Part 1

The official name of the Tennessee Titans’ football stadium changed from ‘LP Field’ to ‘Nissan Stadium’ in 2015. Since I drive a 2007 Nissan Frontier Crew Cab Extended Bed truck, Bro drives a 2011 Nissan Frontier Pro-4X truck, and Mama drives a 2011 Nissan Armada (not the LE, for which she is only mildly bitter), the name ‘Nissan Stadium’ doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, I kind of like it. However, since Cupcake was raised on American muscle cars like the Buick GS, the Pontiac Trans-Am, and the Chevy Camaro, he and Mr. In-Law do not take too kindly to various Nissan redesigns being plastered across their “Titans’ Stadium.”

Picture from Titans Online

The stadium cast a massive shadow on the interstate side of the parking lot as Cupcake, Mr. In-Law, and I bought tickets to the Goodguys Car Show. For mid-May the high was only in the low seventies, and at 10am in the shade, I needed every layer I was wearing. Even my short-sleeved boyfriend admitted a chill.

Mr. In-Law handed me a brightly colored ticket covered in graphics and ads to stuff in my purse as I tripped along behind them towards the first lot of cars. Each lot surrounding the stadium seemed to be devoted to a particular year or brand or type of car, though I never could figure out the pattern. As we looped the first lot in search of their friend from the GS Nationals show, Cupcake and Mr. In-Law stopped at every black Buick or Chevy in the vicinity to stare at the engine and critique any rust. I preferred to scout out the pretty colors. (I was just along for the ride.) Greens always caught my eye first, though the dull forest Chevy lacked any sparkle, and the other green cars tended to lean more towards Military Metal or Peppy Pesto than Granny Smith Apple.

As we passed the entrance into the stadium itself, I looked up and saw a shiny Nissan Titan precariously showcased on a metal shelf. It was definitely not a toy. In fact, the bulbous nose of the truck made it look rather more like a monster than the trim and sporty vehicle that was my Frontier’s big brother. The new nose job made the Titan look practically American. Thus, I could cross the Titan off my potential-new-car-dream-list. Cupcake always suggested that I look at Chevys or GMCs instead, so I figured I could do a little research on American style while I was here.