We had plenty of wailing and gnashing of teeth over the fate of the cool cars I saw being eaten by The Crusher over the weekend. It’s too late for those cars, but here’s one that you can save! If you want the right to curse those who crush classic cars for a few bucks, your enraged thunderations will be more impressive if you rescue one yourself.
This garage holds 45 years of automotive memories. As does the house it’s attached to. I’ll spare you the memories and stories that are being shared, relived and dredged up as the Niedermeyer clan shares a get-together at my parents’ house in Towson. But let’s take a quick look at the cars that have lived here since 1965. Like families, it’s a mixture of the good, the bad and the ugly (as the current occupants make it all too clear).
In 1965, my family moved to Baltimore. From my seventh-grade perspective, it sucked. Iowa City was friendly, open-minded, cosmopolitan and relaxed. Towson was cold, prejudiced, provincial and uptight. I soon learned to loathe everything about Maryland– except crab cakes, soul music and the eastern shore. I became a rebel with a cause: driving.