That’s my lawyer’s kid, exiting a McLaren F1. I’ve not heard if young Master Gleason pronounced “How sweet it is!” whilst exiting the seminal supercar. Or if this “boy meets Big Mac” moment will inspire Hayden to follow his dad down the road to riches, singing Mack the Knife every step of the way. But I do know the first time I fell in love with a four-wheeled object: the day my father took me a for an inaugural ride in his Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3. Dad owned a lot of dirty sexy cars leading-up to this German beast—including a black Olds Rocket 88 and white Ford Thunderbird (whose electric roof froze in an obscenely horizontal position on sports day). But the big Benz’ rumble and MASSIVE acceleration began a lifelong love of all things automotive. I remember a journey from Little Compton to Logan airport in the 6.3, when one of my friends was late for a flight. The speedo touched 100 mph— and stayed there for over an hour. Cars zipped backwards as if pulled by the hand of God while my friend slept comfortably in the back. We arrived with plenty of time. So, how did your automotive passion begin?
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When I was a kid of about 4, I watched from the window of our 2nd floor apartment, Hudson Hornets drive by. I was marked by the shapes of those cars. I still have one I bought in 1972.
When I was 10, my father took me to the Gloversville, NY, auto show, where I saw a 1957 Chrysler for the first time. That car blew me away, and still does. I had a number fo them over the years, but I don’t have one now. They were so poorly constructed that they all disappeared decades ago.
Bob
In my case, we were living in a new apartment in a big city, and neither we nor our neighbors had a car at the time, but I was first introduced to auto mags and supercars of the time by the kid of our neighbor, a year younger than me. Both of us were only children, BTW. And there was an automag at the time (not in english) whose premier issue had a comparison test of the Rolls Royce Silver Shadow vs, surprisingly, not the Merc 600 (the ’short” but still gigantic and overengineered hand-made car) but your same 300 SEL 6.3! The MErc won, but I really liked the Rolls’s styling and used to draw 3-d drawings of the SShadow and previous rollses whenever I got bored at school.
I think the car which I first fell for, was a new late 1950’s Studebaker Hawk in the parking lot of my sister’s school in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Which means I had to be about 3 years old and she, 7. No older than age 4, and my sister 8.
The car which I really fell for and still pine for (and cannot have since there are about 3 running, one of which is in private – Jay Leno’s – hands) is the 1963 Chrysler Turbine Car.
But the Studie has to be first.
Funny enough, until you posted this, I hadn’t realized that. Until asked, it hadn’t percolated to the top of my consciousness.
No wonder I have a photo of a beautiful 1964 Studebaker Gran Turismo Hawk in my cubicle. Black. Red interior. Supercharger. Warner T-10 four speed. Front power disc brakes. Power steering. Twin-Traction.
Alas I’ll never probably have one due to “budget-itis”.
In 1994 at Puente Hills Mazda, my parents were talking to a salesman about leasing a then-new Mazda MPV, which we have to this day. I was in 4th grade, curious about cars. There was a sleek black RX7 parked on a tilted stand in the showroom. I distinctly remembered I never saw these cars and it wasn’t the same car as the ones with the tiny chrome door handles (miatas). Sort of half-dream about owning one ever since.
I remember watching the Cannonball Run and I was just in awe of the Lamborghini Countach.
Speaking of the countach, I saw a few minutes of “Rainman” last night on TV, had not seen it for decades, and its opening sequence would warm the heart of any automaniac, with a whole BUNCH of impressive looking Countachs unloaded, in a primitive, old-fashioned way, from a ship that carried them.
Dino 246GT
When did it start? I dunno…there are pictures of me driving my dinner plate when I was 2. But my uncles always had cool cars…’68 Mustang, ‘71 (?) SCJ Mustang, ‘73 240Z, ‘65 Galaxie 500 convertible, ‘77 Scirocco…
As someone a bit younger, the first car that blew me away was my grandfather’s 84 Mustang SVO. It may be rather mundane by comparison but it was very sleek and fast (to a 3-year old). Of course, it was only bested a few years later by my dad’s first Taurus (MTX5) and later an 89 SHO (my mom had a 90 Sable as well).
Of course, Ferraris and Lambos were seen and drooled over due to their crazy wedge shapes. But, those early Aero-Fords captured my eyes over the boxy chrome-ladened midsize and fullsize domestics in Baton Rouge and later, Houston.
And then there were the Matchbox cars. Ironically, I’ve held on to two from my single-digit years: white 87 Sable wagon and blue 84 Volvo 760. Little did I know, I’d end up with a full-scale model of the same Volvo.
My neighbor’s 300ZX. The one from the mid-1980s. I was amazed that you had to SHIFT THE GEARS YOURSELF! How incredible.
Before that, it had to be the DeLorean from the Back to the Future movies. I always thought that car was cool when I was a kid.
‘72 Mustang Mach 1. Red.
I was in fourth grade, nine years old or so. We had to do some cut-and-paste project (with real scissors and paste!) and I found a magazine ad for a computer. The headline read “where we got the idea something small could be powerful” and underneath was an early eighties Porsche 911 SC, guards red.
I’m sure the other side of the page said something about the product for sale, but I never got that far. I cut out the page and tacked it to my wall. It remained there until I moved out at 18, eventually surrounded by 4 walls of car posters.
I still lust after those clean, simple 911 SCs. The closest I’ve come to owning one is a 914 with serious battery box rust. Maybe some day.
For me, it was the ‘70 yellow Plymouth Barracuda convertible owned by my Dad’s friend until it rusted into nothingness. Joe Mannix drove the same car, in green.
Farago, wasn’t Rocket 88 an Oldsmobile moniker, not Buick?
My first car memories were from the late 60’s (I was 4-5 years old.) My Dad would take me to the Mercedes-Benz dealer and I was mesmerized by the “collapsible” hood ornament.
Early 80s, I saw an ad in a magazine for a car that spoke to you when it needed its oil changed. I think it was a Datsun 280zx. This was back in the days that I used to comb through Heathkit catalogs for HERO robots.
The next car that blew me away was the Jaguar XJ220 a few years later. I still think that aside from the Ford GT and GT40, it’s the best looking car ever built.
It was 1965. Our family car was a big Pontiac Strato Chief. But then some friends of ours, a family of 5 came to visit. The entire family came in a Mini Cooper.
My friend’s college student brother’s 1948 MG TC in cream with red leather.
It is an Olds Rocket. Buick had straight eights until 1954.
E21 mid/late seventies BMW 3-series in all black, ‘73 240Z, later the ‘79 280ZX and later still the early ’80s GTI and that bright red ‘84 300ZX turbo.
It happened when my brother and I both fit into the cubby under the rear window of my Dad’s 62 Beetle. It was exceptionally unsafe, but lots of fun sitting right above the engine.
Easy… being a kid visiting my grandparents in Florida and driving (tightly wedged) in the “back seat” of a Fiat 124 Spider owned by the family next door.
No wonder that my first “new” car was a miata in 1989. Something about a red convertible with a 1.6 liter DOHC engine and a tiny little shifter. Unfortunately the dash in the Miata didn’t quite match up to the flat wooden one in the Fiat. But then again, it’s 20 years old now, with no rust and it starts every time…
My earliest memory is from inside a car. My father is a dyed-in-the-wool car guy, and I think I inherited this gene directly. Like him my attraction has never been centered or even started with one particular car or even type of car. I have a list of cars that have insinuated themselves into my driving DNA and changed the way I look at all things automotive:
* Seeing my dad drive home in a brand new MG B roadster on a sunny Spring day when I was about 5 or 6 years old.
* Attending a car show about the same time. It was a rainy day and held in a parking lot, but in attendance were virtually every Duesenberg still in existence and running at that time (late 60s). That day reinforced the strong feeling I have that cars, while beautiful to behold, are NOT delicate flowers that have to be coddled and only rolled out of trailers and onto grass. They are to be touched, used, seen and DRIVEN.
* Drooling over Lancias, TVRs, and other unobtainable exotica in my dad’s buff books.
* Being tossed the keys of my mom’s 1980 VW Diesel when I was a college sophomore (82-83). The ultimate student car in an age of high-priced gasoline, and cheap Diesel fuel. This car had me driving on road trips all over the west with 50+ MPG on .60¢ a gallon fuel. It also taught me that it is true that there is great joy to be had driving a slow car fast.
–chuck
In 1955, when I was 8, my father brought home a 1955 Chevrolet Bel-Air convertible in cream and red two tone, he put the top down and took us cruising to the ice cream stand.
59 Plymouth-fins.My dad used one as a Highway Patrol car.Forget about video games-words simply cannot describe what it’s like to be in a high speed chase in one of these finned monsters when you’re 5 years old.
Yup they did that kind of thing in 1959-it’s in my permanent memory mental hard drive.
http://www.mystarcollectorcar.com/
1967 Camaro that Darren Stevens had on bewitched. I thought it was absolutely cool at age 8 and I asked Dad if we could get one, that didn’t happen. Years later I finally got a 1968 and it seems wanting one was much better than owning one. It was a plain model with a 327 that needed sway bars, 4bbl, hurst shifter. It was kinda fast but didn’t blow me away. My 1988 Camaro V6 was quieter, handled better, didn’t have heat from engine coming into passenger compartment, etc.
I had no interest in cars of any sort until a friend dragged me to my first F1 race in Indy. Those things are SERIOUSLY amazing and really re-define the word “CAR”
Ferrari F40. Maybe it was that color of red they used, the huge spoiler, or that slotted rear window…but I still remember seeing one at a car show and I used up a lot of film getting all angles of it.
However of cars I actually was driven in when I was a wee little pup still getting interested in cars, and don’t laugh…but I was blown away at the sheer volume of buttons and flashing things of a friend’s mom’s brand new Aerostar. This thing had more displays and buttons than anything from Star Trek.
Now I look back at that and shudder but back in the mid-80’s, that was good stuff!
That’s an easy one… The full-size 1967 Pontiacs. As a (preteen) connoisseur of car styling, I was already a big fan of the 1965-66’s (my family then owned two ‘65 Bonnevilles: a convertible and an air-conditioned Safari wagon), but the front end of those ’67s was radical, elegant, less baroque and thereby modern – and with “hiding” windshield wipers too. (Plus there was the wink to Pontiac fans who could easily see the resemblance between the front of the ’67s and the rear of the ’66s.) Soon we owned one ourselves, a three-seat Executive wagon.
I have so many of these memories that it is tough to pick one. I can recall how fun it was at 2 or 3 to sit in the bottom half of the steering wheel of Mom’s 61 Olds F-85. A guy could get quite a carnival ride out of swinging from side to side in that wheel.
I recall every single car of my kindergarden carpool in 1964-65. Mom’s 64 Cutlass hardtop was the most boring (although with that 330 V8 with the 4 barrel, she would occasionally dust off some obnoxious teenager at a stoplight). I liked Mrs. Young’s metallic lavender 58 Ford (except for the color) and Mrs. Mejer’s copper 59 Chevy wagon. I liked Mrs. Colchin’s white 59 Studebaker Lark, but the day she got her husband’s metallic red 64 Avanti R2 (the supercharged one with the 4 speed), I was hooked for good.
But my favorite was Grandma’s pink and white 55 Desoto Firedome sedan. The only car I had ever seen with the gear shift sticking straignt out of the dash. And the pushbutton trunk button you did not need a key for (and even if you did, she always kept the key over the visor). And I didn’t even know at the time that it had a hemi!
I was 6 years old, when a guest arrived at our home driving a new Maserati Merak. It was 1974, and I remember being completely rattled by the experience. I stared at that car for over an hour and took several pictures (still have them).
3 times come to mind:
1) Riding in my cousin’s 1965 Mustang GT 2+2 home from our cabin near Carlisle, PA. The free-revving 289 was a revelation to a 6 year old.
2) 1978, my first ride in a 1970 LS6 Chevelle SS454. Back when it was just a used car that drank gas. Probably the most brutal acceleration I had ever experienced.
3) 1990, first ride in a 1959 Alfa Giulietta Sprint. I’ve never before had more fun with 1300 CC’s. Delicate, like a scalpel for the road.
That’s easy. I still remember seeing my first E type Jaguar in suburban Montreal in the early 60’s. I was about 13 at the time and I still remember staring at it for many minutes and wanting to run my hands over it (which I didn’t).
My uncle’s ‘55 Jaguar XK140. First car I rode in with a tachometer. I asked him what it was for, and he explained that the engine blows up if you run it in the red for too long. He then proceeded to accelerate in a low gear and put it in the red… Anxious moments for a seven year old.
Call me a geek, but… the Aptera 2e ;)
My uncle’s maroon Jaguar XKE. I was a little kid then (5? 6?) and when he bought it, he took us all out for a ride, 1 at a time on the 2-lane roads that were near his house.
The leather, the dash board with all of the switches and a nice sunny day with the top down.
Thanks for asking, I hadn’t thought about this in many, many years.
Not sure what age I was. 6 or 7. Leaving Mosport after a race, we were in a parking area shared with not one, but two, Ferrari Daytonas. One red and one yellow. (Yes, there was a time when people drove these.) Hearing them come to life simultaneously…there are no words. We ended up behind the yellow one at a stop sign. As soon as the coast was clear, he matted it and stayed on it until he disappeared over the horizon (but you could still hear it). Someday I am going to buy one…somehow, some way.
For me, it was 1974, I was 8 years old and playing at a friends house on the other side of town. His neighbor drove up in a Lotus Europa TC. I was awe struck as was my friend. We both left drool streaks down the windows. To this day I still lust for one or all things Lotus. One day…….
It was 1974 and my father’s friend pulled up to our house in a cream yellow 1973 Jaguar XKE 12 cylinder roadster. I was in love/lust at 13 years old. A few years later, the owner put the E-Type up for sale for $7000. I begged and pleaded but was denied the chance to offer my life-long servitude in exchange for a loan. Fast forward a couple of years when a high school friend’s parents had the same car in a deep dark brown. My friend foolishly offered to teach me how to drive a manual on it.
He said it never drove the same after that.
I was 5-6 when I first saw a picture of a Lambo Countach. I thought wow, that is quite a man made wonder. My dad bought me a Countach RC without knowing anything …ask (god) and you shall receive.
My dads 84 Celica around the same time also blew me away with its Power windows, A/C, hatchback, sound system, middle glass mounted wing, red paint with matching rims, low ride (trouble getting it up the driveway), pop up lights and sunroof, oh and those window bolt on vent things. Wow I loved it. I brought all my friends to see the windows go up and down. This was in 1991 in the Dominican. It sure beat the old Datsun, which was cool too. The 85 Supra was awesome also, could not afford it though.
There were three cars, and three distinct stages:
The first was definitely the Countach, but that was based on looks alone. I credit it with being the first spark to fly off the flint of my nascent carguydom, though. What kind of world was it out there that had objects such as this in it? The familiar word “car” and the mental image it evoked were shattered the first time I saw a photo of a Countach. In a world of K cars suddenly there was this.
The second was when I began to understand performance. A short series of unexciting company cars in the garage gave way to an ‘87 Thunderbird Turbo Coupe. The look [in dark grey with those two hood scoops] grabbed me, but I could now feel the difference between this and normal cars. That look I liked so much picking me up at little league practice was connected to a car being more fun.
Then, in 1989, it all came together when I sat in a Z32 Nissan 300ZX at the New York Auto Show. I adjusted the seat, put my hands on the wheel (I was enthralled by those button pods they put just behind the wheel) and thought: ‘My God, I could drive one of these.’
It was no longer just that beautiful, exciting cars were out there, or that they were capable of thrills apart from their looks; it was that I could actually be the one driving these amazing machines, I was getting close to age where that was a possibility. After that epiphany, it was pretty much all I wanted to do.
Although both the term “blown away” didn’t exist at the time, and I would have been way too young to understand the concept; that selfsame moment still exists in my memory as my oldest memory ever:
It’s the summer is 1953 and dad comes home for lunch from his Chevy dealership driving a brand new Corvette. He gave me a ride in it, then back to work, where he traded it to Grabiak in New Alexandria for two BelAir hardtops.
Of such things is a lifelong passion built.
I found the car sixteen years later, sitting in a garage six blocks from the family home – rotting away forgotten. The owner absolutely refused to sell – it was her late son’s.
I got the bug straight from both my Dad and Granddad (on my Mom’s side). While my Granddad had all sorts of good stuff starting with a ’49 Rocket 88, black, of course, and various Chryslers in the 50’s and 60’s, it was the … uhhh … “test drive” my Dad took me on back in ’63 when he was looking to buy a new car to replace the ’57 Chieftain that just sealed the deal in my mind. We wandered into the local Pontiac dealer, and my Dad asked if they had a ’63 2-door Catalina with a 421 and a 4-speed. Being an 11 year old, that sounded pretty cool. Well, they did. A 2-door post car. Long curved Hurst shifter with a huge white ball on it. Pretty much a stripper from what I remember. Baby Blue. The sales guy tossed my Dad the keys and off we went. Ever try to hang onto the vinyl seat when you Dad is nailing a 330 hp, 3700 pound beast through 1st and 2nd? If I didn’t have the bug full bore before then, I did after that ride.
Unfortunately, my Mom made us settle for a 4-door Bonneville with the 389. However, my Dad did insist we order the optional gages and tachometer!! And, to this day, I have to wonder if that car wasn’t maybe one of those rare swiss cheese frame, aluminum front end cars with a real 421 SD making 405hp that was used exclusively for drag racing. I guess I’ll never know …… but I do know that ride absolutely blew me away.
Circa 1980 my friend’s mom had a Jaguar XJ6 (Series III?). She often gave us rides wherever we needed to go. I couldn’t get over the silent, creamy ride or the leather. At the time **my** mom had a, first, a Ford Gran Torino (a bomb shelter on wheels, clearly) then a POS Mustang. So, riding in the Jaguar was like going to the Moon.
I remember taking my niece, Beth, to an acura dealer when she was 4 or 5, and she immediately jumped into the NSX. She’s not a car nut though. As for me, I loved the ‘64 Chevy lineup when it came out when I was 11; especially the Chevrolet and Chevelle. I still get wonderful nostalgia from those cars, but I have more for Peugeot 404s these days. I remember loving the ‘60 Valiant when it came out. These feelings were based entirely on aesthetics.
I was 10 yrs old and my grandfather pulled up in his brand new 1959 DeSoto.
I have yet to recover….
I was never struck by one particular car. Instead, my obsession with cars began with the understanding that my parents had the crappiest vehicles out of anyone we knew. What started out as envy for other people’s cars led to my noticing of every detail of everything on the road. Whether it was the power window switch or the alloy wheels, I became obsessed with the things that made our Fairmont and Voyager and Nova and Saturn SL the envy of nobody.
1987 Porsche 959 stuffed in into what Porsche laughably described as the rear seat.
1969 silver Mercedes SWB 600. Next door neighbor went temporarily insane and blew the then god-awful amount of $28,000 to buy one. Took it out onto Highway 1 one day and opened the taps. 121 MPH, with all the neighborhood kids in back. The airhorn tucked up under the right fender came off a train. Seriously.
My friend’s dad had an early ’70s maroon Cadillac Eldorado convertible with a white leather interior. I can still remember the two of us riding in the back with the top down on the way to the horse track. Good times indeed!
In the early 1950s my cousin had a boyfriend with an M.G. TC with spindly wire wheels and bucket seats. I used to love sitting in it twisting the steering wheel and going “brrrm-brrrm.” It was the first car I’d seen with a rev counter.
He sold it to buy her a diamond ring. I might have been only six years old, but I had more sense than him. “You’re crazy,” I said. The marriage didn’t last.
I’ve never heard of a Buick Rocket 88, was that some special production run?