CAR PEOPLE

Last Saturday, I attended the 15th annual Calvary Church sponsored, Crossroads Car & Bike Show. Normally, I go to look at the vast array of cool vehicles, plus score a new T-shirt and free hotdog. This time I elected to drag my old Chevy truck out of retirement and see if it’d make the ten-mile round trip to Havasu 95 Speedway at SARA Park without incurring a wrecker bill. Washing and waxing it beforehand was not part of my agenda, knowing that the drive alone would blow off any dust.

Not sure on how it’d fare via one-year-old “skunk gas” I left my house long before the rooster crowed, being one of the first entrants there. For anyone having smelled old fuel they’ll know what I mean by skunk gas. The aroma is similar to a recent roadkill.

Plenty of workers had already settled into their routine by that point, including those priming themselves with hot coffee, all quite eager to help participants park their rides, much aware that some drivers are no longer pros at backing up. It’s oftentimes entertaining to watch a few older folks each year continually drift to the left or right instead of straight back.

Used parts sellers were scurrying about placing their boxes of wares on tables, while others brought in trailer loads to peddle or trade. Car show organizer, Dick Stiller, had already logged a couple of miles on foot overseeing his volunteer crew, while Havasu 95 Speedway owner, Bill Rozhon, did the same on a golf cart.

I was situated in the middle of some extremely nice folks on each side of my vehicle. The couple on my left were from Colorado, having a home in Havasu as well. They drove a pristine gold, 1965 Ford Mustang, basically all stock. The gentleman said that he’d only added a four-barrel manifold and carburetor.

The fellow on my right had a gloss black ’33 Ford coupe with a huge Chrysler Hemi engine stuffed between the frame rails. His license plate showed “The Dairy State,” Wisconsin.

Normally, I quietly walk around ogling vehicles, but this time elected to stop and talk with car owners as well. It’s interesting to me in seeing if a vehicle matches up with its driver. I suppose in police terms it’d be akin to “vehicle profiling.” This mental game I play, allows a show to be that much more enjoyable.

I did enough walking and talking that only three laps were completed around the quarter mile track in three hours. Some attendee names I recall while others not, so not to offend anyone, I’ll merely mention their vehicle make and model and leave it at that.

A fellow with a vintage 1947 Pontiac said that he was eighty, and only four years older than his car. The vehicle he owned had the same paint, interior, headliner, and trunk mat that was originally installed on the automobile when it was built. His vehicle was a real time machine and a gift from his son-in-law; much to his daughter’s chagrin, this according to him. The gentleman was a thirty-seven-year retired Air Force veteran, and I thanked him for his service.

A sports car aficionado owning a 2023 Chevrolet Corvette was most hospitable. I wanted to know how his ‘Vette handled and he said like a dream. He went on to tell me that the horsepower under his hood was awesome, yet like all true gearheads, claimed that it’s never enough. He matched up well with his powerful ride, because the guy could’ve easily been a former NFL player.

One distinguished gentleman, wearing a British style driving hat and having manicured moustache was most knowledgeable. His expertise of makes and models was over the top. The guy frowned a bit on my truck, believing it should’ve been properly restored, yet being a true car person, we parted company on good graces, with him politely saying, “To each their own!” He isn’t the only person having said that to me over the years.

I chatted with several bikers wearing club jackets. They profiled well with their awesome machines. Personal demeanor was pleasant and charming without harsh language as some folks unduly expect from the motorcycle crowd. I kept looking around for “Flo” in her white riding apparel but never saw the lady.

Pastor Chad Garrison of Calvary Church was wandering about with a most interested grandson leading the way. I’m not sure preacher had a Corvette or Harley in the show, but if I were to pick a car matching his profile, especially having curly gray locks that’d unfurl in the breeze, a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro convertible would fit him well. Marina blue in color, I’d say he’s more of an automatic transmission kind of guy, rather than 4-speed on the floor.

A bearded face missing this year was assistant pastor, Chet Anderson. He’s the guy who’s always sold me T-shirts and pointed my carcass to the free hotdogs. I was told that Chet’s in Georgia, but hopefully the popular figure around town returns for Crossroads Car & Bike Show number sixteen.

Come next year hopefully I’ll be back. My first priority will be to drain any old fuel from the truck, realizing that two-year-old gasoline is definitely pushing things to the limit. Making another successful roundtrip to Havasu 95 Raceway without fresh petrol would be akin to a 69-year-old, depth perception challenged driver, attempting to back an old Chevy pickup, uphill, into a tight space, having left their bifocal glasses at home. Hats off to the show volunteer having successfully guided me!