(click on image for larger view)I was almost home. I was kind of in a hurry. I had met my wife for lunch and on the way home saw a "used toy and collectibles" store and purchased some 20 bucks worth of plastic and metal toy cars. (Another story.)
I was approaching my street when I thought "No. Maybe there's something unique between here and the highway today. I'll just go up there past LeDuc's frozen custard stand, and turn around in the parking lot of Wilke's Auto."
Sometimes Wilkes has some interesting stuff in the lot. Not today.
As I pulled out and headed back towards home, I saw a pair of round headlights coming at me from a quarter mile away. They were rimmed by bright metal, gleaming even on this cold, overcast afternoon. As the vehicle came into relief, I saw that it was a late 50s Ford, and as it slid by me I saw it was a Country Squire station wagon, with all the "wood" intact and a gorgeous lipstick red paint job.
It's always hard to tell how people will react when you start following them. You wonder when they notice. After my U-turn, we took a couple of turns "in town" and then onto a county road.
After we got through a twisty bit, The Squire roared quite rudely and began to shrink with alarming speed. I knew by the tires and dual exhaust that this was not a standard Fairlane, but its acceleration was truly impressive. I had to work to stay with him, but finally, some 10 miles later, he pulled up in his driveway.
I rolled down my window and asked the driver if he would mind if I took a few photos of his car, and his response was "Want a beer?" A Country Squire indeed.
When we entered his "garage" to tap a couple of glasses of the Delafield Brew Haus's finest, I noticed right away a lot of Formula One memorabilia, and I knew The Squire was no mere hot rodder.
For the next 90 minutes or so, the Squire regaled me with tales of his career as a pit crew chief for all kinds racing teams including the legendary Can-AM series, some of the wildest sports car racing this continent has ever seen.
So do be careful when you follow strangers home, but don't rule it out. Sometimes you make a new friend.
Thanks, Curt. See ya around.
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All contents copyright 2009 Jeff Blackwell