Birth of a Gearhead.

"How'd you end up working in the Auto Industry?"



What's a Seat Belt?

I get asked this frequently when I meet new people, and I start into the tale pretty much in the same way every time, talking about growing up around cars, watching my father work on them, my mom telling stories about racing on country back roads with her brothers.  I often forget that growing up with terms like cherry picker, dual carb, Deuce...these are things that are pretty rare nowadays.  I forget that your mother punching it hard, aggressively cresting a hill just for a rush of adrenaline while reminiscing about the long-gone Chevelle with the 396 is a bit of a storied, all-American childhood.  It's hard to believe that not every child got to be carted around (sometimes even in the rumble seat) in a '28 Model A Roadster.

Carcinogens? Nahhhh....

As a child, I crawled around under my father's project cars, screwdriver in hand, unafraid and unprotected from the hazards of such an occupation.  I listened to my mom ask questions of muscle car drivers, like "you running a 383 in that Road Runner?" 



I rarely find myself in the position where I'm waving an American flag and feeling immensely patriotic, because I've always been on the skepical side about our country, our motives, our actions.  After reading "Overthrow: America's Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq" by Stephen Kinzer, my notions about the corruption of the USA were solidified. (This is a must read.  In order to advance and improve, we must know our own past indiscretions. )  Buy here:   http://www.amazon.com/Overthrow-Americas-Century-Regime-Change/dp/0805082409/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341080506&sr=8-1&keywords=Overthrow



'Cept for the desk job is cleaner.

Still, minus the politics, minus the negatives, minus the mass-displays-of-ignorance...I feel lucky to have grown up in a culture of Americanism that many missed out on.  It instilled a passion for history, for individuality, for independence...for adrenaline.  I feel bad for the apathetic youth that don't have something that they feel is worthwhile, worth fighting for, worth pursuing. I never thought these early exposures to the automobile would seal my career destiny, but alas, it did, and I can't say I don't feel like it's appropriate for me, and that it hasn't paid my bills. It is, and it does. 

Passions are valuable.  There are a lot of different people who have famously said that if you find something you LOVE doing, you'll never work a day in your life. I find that a lot of the generation coming up behind me don't know yet what their passions are, and thus...they live an unsatisfying existence.  Growing up a gearhead, filled with passion for cars, landed me in just about every positive experience of my life, from being able to shoot films in Los Angeles as both a driver and an actor, working on cars to help my friends, and eventually, for the Big L, in the air conditioning, with benefits.

Genetic destiny at play.

It's not the 80's anymore, and I don't know a lot of people that have access to the type of freedoms I feel like I had as a kid.  Maybe trying to find one's passions in such a restrictive environment is a futile edeavor.  We've traded a lot of our freedoms for security, and it's in the opinion of this skeptic that in some cases, its the freedoms that we need more desperately.

 Skeptically Yours.

Underrated.

(Excuse random underlining. Blogger...why are you doing this to me?)

My mother snapped a picture of me as I knelt down to put the registration sticker on the Nova. It was a simple act, something I've done every single year for 15 years every time that little sticker would arrive from the DMV. This year, that small act seemed absolutely epic, as six months ago, I didn't even know where she was.



Victory!


The Nova, that is. I didn't know where SHE was...not my mother. I've always known my mother's location. Follow along, people.

It's a long story, and has culminated in an increasing feeling of bitterness that I wish I could shed. I have no time for grudges, they give me migraines, and yet this one... I will hold on to this one. It's not an option. Let's just say that the skeptic in me was wrongly quiet as my car was handed over as a project, and it's the one time that the inner skeptic should have spoken the fuck up.

Now that she's back, I've had ample time to roll around in my rust bucket, clackety clacking around Los Angeles just like it was 2002. Not much has changed, actually, she has a crappy 350 (again), a crappy bench seat (again), and a granny shifter (again). It's like I'm 22 (again). Except for...I'm not.


Back then I was attempting to make the Nova faster, better, cooler. I don't remember feeling like I had something to prove, but apparently I did. These days, I'm back to my motto, "fuggoff." Really...she is what she is, which isn't perfect. She's a little aged. She's of the type where people either love her or hate her. Just like...me.


As I cruise along with no music except for the exhaust note and the miscellany of ticks and rattles, I find myself singing to fill the void. It's interesting the songs that I remember, poignantly, with a little spice from Led Zeppelin's 1976 album Presence. "I was burned in the heat of the moment, though it couldn't have been the heat of the day, when I learned how my time had been wasted, and a tear fell as I turned away." Fitting, I believe.   It's also Led Zeppelin's most underrated album, but that's neither here nor there.

The Nova is a little older than me, but not by much. The gravity of the years and miles are apparent, and we're both a little...basic. Of the few things that in this lifetime have never let me down, and as a consequence, I never gave up on, she's the one that symbolizes most the fight for self. She's been reinvented a handful of times only to come back to the very same configuration with which she started. She's been mistreated, misused and neglected as well as loved, cherished, and enjoyed. And now, in this original configuration with her rust and dents and dings  (character!), she'll be appreciated more than ever.

Because I finally respect and embrace her for what she is, and because I've come a long way since 22, I can fully appreciate that lesson.  Even the part about the grudge.






Skeptically Yours.