Hammer Time: Sonseed

My niece and nephew are about to have their B’nai Mitzvah. To call this event a ‘gala’ will be like calling Lillith Fair, “a trite affair with a few left-leaning ladies.” Money will be spent aplenty. Ceremonies that are thousands of years old will be performed and honored, and I will have the best time since last year’s demo derby. Even though I live in Georgia, I love coming back ‘home’, and some cars that were truly authentic for their time still give me that same feeling.

I saw this car at an auction only a half hour away from me. 59,000 miles. An exterior as radiant blue as a Smurf’s cartoon, and a little old lady who barely made a crease on the driver’s side. It was perfect New Jersey Mafia kitsch and I gave more than a passing thought towards tuning it up and driving it from North Georgia to Lawn Guyland. A 70’s three piece suit and a trenchcoat for yours truly along with… well I would really need is my old Jersey accent and a trip to a nearby thrift store.

I grew up in a world where these cars were part kings of the road and part minivan. They seated seven (three front, four rear minus one seatbelt) and commanded the respect of union members and OPEC ministers alike. But then there was the exact opposite. The ever collapsible Honda Civic, the light beer sipping Toyota Corona, and my favorite being the youngest of four… the Subaru Brat.

The Brat, like the Sonseed folks, were so corny as to be authentic. I can still remember the B-R-A-T spelled out next to the driver’s door and a bed that looked like the perfect space and depth for a kid’s playpool. The car was also so small that I could easily imagine myself driving the thing. An idea that was not even a remote thought in that Cadillac. These things were death defying and noisy on the interstates. But around town they exuded this cool, almost sporty dorkiness that 80’s cars seem to bring out. Nissan Pulsar. Toyota Celica. Buick Reatta. All those cars today just seem to be so strange… and yet so fun to revisit at the auctions.