(no subject)
This past Saturday, the company I work for had its annual car show. All the employees are required to work it, and I'm glad because I don't know that I would be motivated to make the long drive (it's held at our warehouse in WI) otherwise. And it's a really fun car show. We had something like 1,000 cars in about 30 different categories. As in years past, I was one of the judges, which means that I had to walk around for about 3+ hours straight looking for the cars that were in my categories (trucks, modern American 1980-2008, and Japanese). The judging is completely subjective. The main point of the show, I think, is that all these car people get to show off their babies and oh and ah over other guys' babies too.
My car preferences: I love '70s Corvettes; they just scream 1970s to me. I love '60s Citroëns because of their distincitive silhouette. When you see a row of DeLoreans with their doors open, how can you not smile? And there is just something cool about the impressively impractical power of muscle cars.
Actually, the cars I totally love to look at are the old-timey race cars. I don't personally have the ambition to go fast, but clearly for so many, it's an irresistible draw. I guess the reason I like race cars is that they are physical manifestations of that desire.
My car preferences: I love '70s Corvettes; they just scream 1970s to me. I love '60s Citroëns because of their distincitive silhouette. When you see a row of DeLoreans with their doors open, how can you not smile? And there is just something cool about the impressively impractical power of muscle cars.
Actually, the cars I totally love to look at are the old-timey race cars. I don't personally have the ambition to go fast, but clearly for so many, it's an irresistible draw. I guess the reason I like race cars is that they are physical manifestations of that desire.