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by Bobby McCarthy
Copyright (c), 2003, My Daily Driver -- All Rights Reserved  The title for this article, My First Car Show, may be a bit deceiving. I have been attending car shows since the days of my youth. I remember seeing such attractions as the "Batmobile", no not the one Michael Keaton drove, but the Barris creation that Adam West foiled super-villains in. Show vehicles such as the "Tarantula" and the "Munster's" Hearse were common place. These events would also feature "guest appearances". Normally, these included aging Playboy Centerfolds or folks you never heard. However, if you were really lucky, you could be fortunate enough to meet the "voice" of the robot from Lost in Space. Regardless, these events were massive over-stimuli for any adolescent gear-head. I always take pride in the vehicles I wrench and drive. But, I am also honest about the level of commitment and investment I am willing to put forth. I love driving these classic cars, but the fact that I have always owned "Daily Drivers" speaks for itself. I have never owned a car cover let alone a temperature controlled environment for my old cars. I have never fretted about leaving my car parked on a busy city street. I rarely lock my car, I have a "if you won't to steal it, please don't break the glass" attitude. Now, for those of you who are waiting for parts to return from the sand blasting shop, while your car is up on blocks for the full "frame-off" restoration, I tip my hat. If you have painstakingly resurrected your car over the years, you have my deepest admiration. 
This brings us to My First Car Show. As said at the beginning, I have attended countless car shows, but this was the first time I registered for one. This was a local car show held at a school. The registration fee of $10.00 went to a very worthy cause, so I did my charitable part and handed over the cash. I was given a little bag of discount coupons and road maps. I drove my car from the registration area and pulled around the building and entered the concourse. To my surprise, the first two rows contained vintage '50's and early '60's Corvettes. A whole bunch of them. As I am navigating my old Dodge between the maze of people and very expensive classic cars, I felt a sinking feeling. For starters, at that time, my car made a banging noise at low RPM. I needed to tweak the timing and replace a body screw that held down my AC line. So, as I am rolling through the crowd trying to find my "class", folks are wincing and pulling their children out of my path. I guess the combination of rusty bumpers and the "banging" sound made them nervous. I located my "class" area and backed in to a spot. Again, the "bang, bang, bang", made the folks around me stop polishing their glove box handles and rise up with a look of discontent. Ouch. I thought I was prepared; I expended two cans of Gunk Engine Brite within my engine compartment followed by a hardy blast of high-pressure water courtesy of the neighborhood Scrub-a-Dub. In addition, I actually waxed my bright red exterior. I drove this car through a New England winter and I felt it looked damn good for a "Daily Driver". 
Once I exited my car, I began a reconnaissance of the perimeter. Wow. The cars to my left and the cars
to my right looked as though they were transported via H.G. Wells' Time Machine. Don't get me wrong, I
would love to own anyone of them. No, I take that back, I would love to "drive" anyone of them. My
goodness, we have a little charity car show and look at what shows up. I was not embarrassed by my
entry in this particular show. I mean, after all, it was all for charity. But, I have learned that
although I "drive" a classic car, the folks who willingly allow their cars to be judged are of a
different breed than I.I suppose my expectations were a tad high. I mean, I "drive" a classic car, so to me, conventional wisdom would dictate that anyone registered at the show would embrace me. Well, they did not. However, some folks who had the most "serious" entries were the most positive. For instance, the owner of a perfect 1967 Shelby GT500 wandered by my stall. I easily recognized him as I drooled when he pulled that Mustang in. He glanced at my entry and I said, "You think I'll win the Best of Class trophy!" He smiled and said, "Hell, if you don't win, you can have one of my trophies." He slapped his hand on my miss-aligned hood and commented that it's all about just owning any of these classics. Needless to say, I did not win my class. However, I did receive a really cool metallic sticker signifying that I participated in this car show. I attached it under my trunk lid next to the jack instructions. I plan to attach many more. 
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