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Show Mob 2B Happenings April 1997 Americans have long been known for their love affairs with cars. We wash 'em, wax 'em, talk endless hours about them and pour millions of dollars into them each and every year. We even name them. For example, I affectionately refer to my Bronco as the Poltergeist, but I've heard friendlier, more loving names, too. My brother had a car named Mable. They would go for long drives together and sometimes the police would bring them home. Anyway, the car show is as American as the Fourth of July and April is the month for the best car show anywhere in these parts. April 25 (street dance!) to April 26 (show, parade and street dance!) is the 4th Annual Moab fun. Rod Benders Car Club Auto Show at new city park. Crab your memories and your honey and come on down for some good jl Hot Care and Jitterbug by Janet Lowe The Shelby rumbled and vibrated beneath me. I was at the wheel of a powerful machine, but I felt more like it had me. A 428 Cobra Jet engine, 700 horsepower with two Holley carburetors on top of a polished aluminum manifold. Enough chrome under the hood to buy my house twice! I was definitely out of my league in a car that can go 0 to 60 in 5 seconds. 1 kept my foot light on the pedal as long as it would let me and then pressed it to the floor and flew down Highway 191 accelerating faster than I ever have on the ground, hopthe Utah Highway Patrol and County Sheriff boys were ing busy with tourists. I tore through the night at 100 miles an hour waiting to jump toward the stars and still it wanted to go faster. Then I got scared. I took my foot off the pedal but could tell the car wanted to keep going; it wasn't ready to give up the night. Reluctantly, car responded to driver and I headed east toward Spanish Valley Road and back to town. The aquamarine stock Shelby Cobra is one of John Foggs babies and he had let me behind the wheel to see what it feels like to drive a thing of such power. Earlier in the evening we had cruised along Main Street in the parade of v image cars that w ere part of the Moab Rod Benders Car Club annual auto show. I felt like I had slipped through the tw ilight zone into a time and place Id never been, and as far as that goes, never thought Id go. A car show? A parade 1 of gunning engines, hydraulic lifters and cars shooting flames? What was I doing here riding shotgun and waving to crowds of people sitting in their lawn chairs up and down Main Street? Did this mean I'd have to bleach my hair blonde and get tattoos? Pose in a tiny bikini on top of a Corvette? I was refining my homecoming queen wave, though; wrist, wrist, elbow, elbow pearls. Wrist, wrist, elbow, elbow.. ..The guys among the crowd were crowing and hooting wanting John to rev the engine, to make noise. When any driver obliged with a screaming engine or flames, there was great applause and cheering from the sidewalk. After cruising Main Street a few times, John pulled the Shelby into the Big A Auto Parts parking lot and we sat on the bumper watching a 1952 Chevy shoot flames and picking our favorites from the over 500 cars in attendance. My methods for choosing Best of Show were somewhat different from the judges. Im sure. First of all, by my rules the car had to be totally stock; therefore, anything that had lightning bolts or flames painted on the sides or was a 1990s fuschia was summarily disqualified. Most important, though, was how much fun I thought it would be to drive, with extra points given for convertibles so my hair and scarf could fly in the. wind. So even if a 1936 Plymouth was exquisitely restored, flameless and flawless, it couldnt win my Best of Show because it had teeny-tin- y windows you could barely see out of and just wouldnt accommodate dark glasses and a white scarf streaming over my shoulders. (Its also hard to do a homecoming queenFirst Lady wave out of a 36 Plymouth. ) Excessive noise is out of the question in a Best of Show, so even though John let me drive his Shelby he couldnt win my trophy. (Sony, John.) Actually, my final decision came down to a tie between two Ford Fairlanes: one a 959 tone on tone pastel green with a retractable top, and the other a 1955 black and white Ford Fairlane hard 57 Chevies always get a once-ovtop. and there were some stunning 62-6- 3 Impalas, but Im a Ford kinda-gafter all. actual cars, I decided. By then, of course, I wanted to own a with two older car, but being the only girl and brothers, I didnt get a car. They of course, had cars. My oldest brother Doug had a 1958 Chevy with rolled and pleated interior. Dale started off with a 1931 Model A of all things and then graduated to a 1956 Fairlane before he made the bold and curious leap to VW bugs. Occasionally I would get to drive the folks 1965 Delta 88 down to Peters drive-i- n in downtown Kansas City, Kansas, for a double saladburger and a cheny coke slush. It was cool to buzz the drive-i- n and I was Impala....and...AND, what about the music that goes with the cars? Strolling through the park the sounds of Jan & Dean, the Beach Boys and other surfer' music and old time rock n roll wafts through the air. People sit in clumps under trees try ing to remember all the songs about cars: Little Deuce Coup, 409, Dead Man s Curve, Thunder Road, Hot Rod Lincoln, Little Old Lady from Pasadena and so on. One tiling leads to another and before you know it youre out swinging and twisting the night away to the songs that we knew way back when. And now I have a confession to make. W'hen I jumped especially into the Shelby that April night a proud to be able to back year ago I was in a really, really bad mood. I was into the narrow parking slots to order from the ready to rip flesh with my teeth and car hops. Only the uncoolest kids pulled in under the spit out the bones. By the time John and I had made one turn around Main Street was laughing and re- roofed serving area, and even worse was to 1 pull into the outside parking places taillights out. Id have to be alive. was and America in small town America have fun, by gathering on the streets and talking about old times and collecting memories for the next decade or so. I thought about how absolutely lucky I am to live in a town where car shows are still outside on the grass and under the trees and sky instead of in a gigantic convention center with glaring lights and echoing loudspeakers overhead. I thought how lucky we are to be able to have a parade down Main Street on a Saturday night, about how smart we are to make it an important community event Then I smiled. The Ford Fairlane passed by. I was on the bumper of a hot car with a good friend on a Saturday night The only thing missing was the chenry coke slush. -- than do that! And while I -- circled the parking lot as many times as the other kids, and drove with confidence (or at least with a confident look on my face), I was secretly terrified at all the power at my disposal in the Delta 88. Of course, I didnt remember any of this car stuff until I hopped in Foggs car during the car show and put the pedal to the medal on 191. But its hard not to wander through childhood memories w'hen you are looking at the cars you grew up in and around wishing like hell you had had the foresight to put them in a garage and lock the door until 1997. There was that 1959 Chevy El Camino...and the 1968 Chevy er al I wasnt always a Ford. I used to be an Oldsmobile. Well, my parents used to be Oldsmobiles.Then they switched to Chevies and then - dare I say the word Toyotas. My dad taught me to drive in an Oldsmobile and I will never forget how tenifying it was to be behind the wheel of a V8 engine in a car the size of a small airplane when I was only 2 years old weighing in at about 65 pounds. I cried and begged him not to make me drive it. I cried really hard until he finally let me stop driving. I dont think I touched a steering wheel until I was in drivers ed three years later working on my agricultural driving permit. Simulators were much safer than 1 djotures UesTd 50 N. Main in people ironed my hair 1 Yum-mer- s! I watching people have fun the way rather stayed home how membering good it feels - 259-441- 4 Open Daily 59 S. Main Western Plaza, next to Eddie McStiffs (801)259-726- 5 |