One of the best part of a car show is reminiscing about that sweet ride, that project car your dad or grandpa was endlessly working on, your mother or sister’s dream car, or, as so often is the case, the one (vehicle) that got away. Maybe you sold it, maybe you and your family outgrew it, maybe it got wrapped around a tree. In this gallery, readers share THEIR memories of beloved cars, and car shows, past.
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Ron Mucci STILL misses this beautiful beast of a drag racer built on the body of a 1981 Corvette.
I earned 2 degrees from USF, Tampa, FL. I was a photojournalist for several publications including several martial arts, canine, and motorsports magazines. I was on duty at Daytona for the 24 hour race with Media credentials from the Ferrari Club of America’s magazine – “Prancing Horse” in 1995.
At the age of 70, actor-racer Paul Newman became the oldest driver to be part of a winning team in a major sanctioned road race, the 24 Hours of Daytona, in 1995. His car number mirrored his age of 70.
I had the wonderful task of interviewing him in the paddock one afternoon before the race. There was a practice session which I found opportunity for a quick meeting with him after having my request denied several times. Sitting quietly in his car, he had his suit on, helmet and gloves off, and was awaiting his Ford’s finishing touches to enter the circuit for a practice session. The car was up in the air, crew members all around us. The paddock was quiet. The mood was serious.
I introduced myself and barely started the interview from what would be the passenger’s seat area when several excited crew members ran towards him and yelled, “Mr. Newman, you are on track now”! I looked at the crew chief, Kevin Doran, who I knew from prior race events, and I asked him what to do. Kevin yelled over the instant clatter of tools and energy, ‘Do it. Get his helmet and belts on, now’! Mr. Newman put his helmet on while I found his gloves and tossed parts out from inside the car’s cockpit. He fastened his lap belt while I weeded his 2 shoulder belts through the cage to his chest. He hadn’t yet fastened his ‘sub strap’ and he fumbled to find it. The lap belts were already fastened. The car suddenly plopped from the air jacks, hard to the ground. We had moments before he had to leave the safety of the paddock. The car exploded to life, the deafening noise bounced around the cavern-like concrete paddock.
After having raced for many years I knew where his sub strap was hiding – it was in the middle of the seat, under Mr. Newman’s butt. There was no time to waste, no time to unlatch his lap belts to find it, so I did what had to be done – I shoved my hand between his legs, past his crotch, dug around frantically searching for the sub strap’s metal buckle and pulled it out. I plugged it into the cam lock and gave him the ‘thumbs up’. I started to back out of the car when he grabbed me by my arm, looked me in the eyes, paused for what seemed like a year, smiled, and said to me, “I love you, too”.
I never finished the interview but I have a true story that few others can claim – that I was obligated to touch his “Racing Junk”.
Here are some shots of my street/strip Hot Rod from 1967 to display in your other related memories spot.
It’s a 1930 Model A Ford coupe I built and installed my ’62 Chev SS 450hp Hi Perf 409ci driveline . Street race and cruse and drag raced in High School.
I also built another one 1931 A Ford coupe for my 25th high school reunion in late ‘80’s attached (SB Chevy engine)
