What was that pivotal experience when you knew you were an automotive enthusiast? Can you pinpoint that single moment that defined your passion for the automobile or motorcycle? For many people it was a slice of time. They saw a car that was completely different than anything they had seen before. For others it was that first ride in a special automobile. And for the fortunate, it was a combination of experiences with another person such as a parent, a family member, or a mentor. No matter what it was for you, one thing is for sure.
It changed the way you felt.
We do things we like because of how they make us feel. This is the “why” that motivates us. So often we hear “do what you love”. For the automotive enthusiast who has discovered how to wrap their passion for cars in to their vocation the change in mindset is this.
Love what you do.
If we can fall in love with the automobile chances are we can fall in love with doing something that evolves around the automobile. In doing so what we do becomes far more important and so does the work.
When did you fall in love?
I bought my first Alfa Romeo in 1978. My buddy had shown up infront of my house with the new red Alfetta GT that would become mine only 6 months later. As an 18 year old, working student it cost me every penny I had. Within a year I figured out that school was in the way, financially and timewise, of my Alfa habits and had to go. It still didn’t hit me that I was addicted or suffering from car passion. Perhaps my denial was blinded by the Italian car sound and feel. Years went on and many miles filled with fantastic memories and experiences for a guy in his formative car years. One chilly winter day I met a stunning girl in the U-District who agreed to share a pizza. Turning out to be one of the greatest women on the planet, and me being amazingly lucky, the relationship grew and blossomed. Around a year into this, she turned to me, smiling, and with a cheerful tone mentioned, “You love that car more than me.” Of course she was wrong because the car, though cool, was just an inanimate object and she was thrilling, smart, beautiful, athletic, on, and on and on… To show her how she had misjudged me, I called my buddy who wanted the car and offered it for sale for whatever he had in the bank, despite the fact that this amount was less than half what I had just spent on recent service. That evening the car was no longer mine and the girl was clearly my one true love. It actually felt really good, and since she liked convertible cars, I added a nice dark blue ’74 Alfa Spider to sit next to my white VW GTI so life was really grand. Drives to the ocean and wandering mountain roads were great and no regrets… well almost no regrets. It took another 6 months when one day, while I was day dreaming of cars, my brain focused on the future. I envisioned where the relationship would go, how it looked as I grew into my 30s, 40s, and beyond. Somehow in that mix, it became clear that though I liked the path with her, I really wanted that damn Alfetta GT as part of it. In fact, as fantastic as she was and as challenged any mid 70s Alfa can be, I did prefer the Alfa Romeo. I had to admit to her that she was right. Its not that I didn’t love her, I just loved the Alfa a little more. She took the news well. We are still friends today, and her husband is a great guy and deserves the great woman she is. Me? My sickness grew and my driveway is filled with Alfa Romeos and I have never seen a doctor for fear they might try to cure what I enjoy so much. Car passion is well ingrained. Luckily, I have a job that is 100% focused on cars, travel, and photography. I even get to infect others with this sickness as I go. Its all good.
My dad would periodically surprise everyone (including my mom) by coming home with a new car. The cars themselves were not too memorable since all his available cash went to feeding four hungry boys, but the events were fun once my mom settled down.
Best early memory was my brother and me crowded into the rear of a ’63 split window Vette while a neighbor, who worked for Chevy, took my dad on a ride in his demo.
I was about 6 years old and my Texas Farmer Father, Bill Greene had cleaned out the chicken house and filled our Model A Ford pickup bed with the droppings. He said he needed my help to drive the pickup while he stood in the back and shoveled the load out in the wheat field. He set the throttle on about 10 miles per hour, stationed me on my knees in the driver’s seat, showed me the gas lever which was on the steering column beside the steering wheel, jumped out, crawled in the back and left ME in charge. Now I had watched my dad drive the pickup many times with great interest and longed for a chance to take the wheel myself some day. THIS was my big chance! Well everything went well for a few minutes until I decided to up the speed a bit AND take s few curves instead of driving in a boring straight line. I shoved the throttle straight up and began pulling the steering wheel back and forth as fast as my little hands could jerk it. I heard the loud screams of my dad, caught him in the rear view mirror, running with the shovel waving like an SOS flag after having fallen off the pickup bed. My first try at driving ended with the nose of our Model A Ford pickup stuck in a ditch after crashing through a barbed wire fence. Of course, I caught hell, but the whole thing was well worth the consequences….. AND I was addicted and in LOVE with driving for life.