TCGOB: "How I Became a Car Guy" by Steve Wingate

The Car Guy of Benchfield

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How I Became a "Car Guy"

by Steve Wingate

I have been obsessed with cars as long as I can remember. My mother often told me that my first word was not "mama" or "dada", but "car." I believe my grandfather, an avid car collector, had a lot to do with this. He often made the trek from Verbena, Alabama to Birmingham to visit his grandchildren, and it seems that every time he did, he showed up in a different car. On one visit he would arrive in a 1965 Cadillac convertible, then on the next trip he would be driving a Citroen or a Peugeot. I can remember one time in particular when this oddball-looking little car bounced into the driveway, and my grandfather clambered out a door in the front of the car. His all-time favorite, however, was a VW pickup truck, a very rare vehicle that looked like a chopped VW van.

When my grandfather came to visit he always came bearing gifts. He always brought me one of three things: toy cars, model cars, or books about cars. It was as if he knew that I would someday share his passion for automobiles. And if I didn't, then the gifts would convince me otherwise. Ironically, toy cars and books about cars became my passion rather than the cars themselves. I attribute this to limited space and income, for if I had both, I'd probably have twice as many cars as my grandfather did.

On the occasions when my family traveled to Verbena, my grandfather would walk me around his land and tell me about the many cars he kept there. Sadly, many of them were little more than piles of rust that had become home to creepers and ivy. No matter what their condition, however, he was proud of every last one of them. There was a Jaguar XK120 than could be identified only by the emblem on the dashboard, a super-charged Graham Hollywood, a Goliath, and three or four Packards all in varying stages of automotive decay. He also had the only Kaiser I have ever seen to this very day. There was even a partially assembled Model T in one of his chicken houses. The chicken houses hadn't had any occupants for years, and my grandfather had installed stained-glass windows in them partially as a joke, but also so that no overly-curious passerby could see what he was restoring. The Model T was his last restoration job, and was never finished.

The stained-glass chicken houses did have some graduates-- a beautifully restored Model A, a 12 cylinder Lincoln, a 1963 Mercedes, and a BMW Isetta. This last car was the "oddball-looking little car" that I mentioned earlier. The Isetta had one door right in front, and was the weirdest vehicle I had ever seen.

By the time I was twelve or thirteen, my grandfather had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and was placed in a nursing home. The task of readying the sprawling Verbena estate for sale fell to my father. Our family spent many weekends rambling around the old house and fields, cleaning out two generations of memories. The house itself was massive, ten rooms in all, but the real Herculean task was disposing of all the cars… 48 of them to be exact. I begged my dad to keep a few… after all, I would be sixteen before too much longer, and would be needing something to drive. The Mercedes or Citroen DS21 would do just fine, the Cadillac convertible even better. I remember my dad telling me that; first off, we didn't have the room for extra cars. (He was right.) Secondly, that my mother would kill him if he tried. (Right again.) And lastly, that he wasn't skilled enough as a mechanic to keep any of them running very well. (He was being modest.) My father found a buyer for all of those cars, and soon the only thing left in that field were the dead spots in the grass.

It was during this time that I discovered my grandfather's library, an octagonal room with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. One wall was devoted to his collection of car books, the centerpiece of which was a twenty year collection of Automobile Quarterly. I poured over these and other books, reading about anything from Auburn Roadsters to Willys Jeeps. I made an even more exciting discovery in one far corner of the library-- hundreds of issues of Car and Driver, Motor Trend, Road and Track, Hot Rod, and Road Test. The earliest date on any of them I can remember is 1964, the latest around 1978. I looked at every last magazine, unknowingly memorizing hundreds of makes, details and no telling what else. Now, all of these years later, very little of what I learned has left me. I didn't learn many technical details, but instead, I studied the lines and designs, head and tail light clusters, the years they were made, the colors they came in, and the types of engines they had beneath the hoods. It was during this time that I discovered some of the cars that remain my favorites to this very day-- the Boss 302 Mustang, the 1970 Trans-Am, the Ferrari 308, Lancia Stratos, and the Mercedes C111 just to name a few. I still read Car and Driver and others today, so my knowledge continues to grow.

Now, at age 31, I have yet to own any of these cars I've loved for so many years, but my passion is still very strong. My head turns at the sight or sound of a car much the same way that most men are captivated by beautiful women. The rumble of a well- tuned V8, or the shriek of a twelve cylinder power plant does something to me that I can't quite explain… the whine of a turbo charger is a siren song, and the sound of a strong automobile running through its gears speaks to me of freedom and exhilaration.

2001 Car Guy of Benchfield

Home + TCGOB NASCAR! + Photo Garage + Links + Mad Mad Automotive World + Driving Songs + Humor Pages + Reader's Rides+ All About TCGOB + Contact Us


	The Car Guy of Benchfield Home + TCGOB NASCAR! + Photo Garage + Links + Mad Mad Automotive World + Driving Songs + Humor Pages + Reader's Rides+ All About TCGOB + Contact Us How I Became a "Car Guy" by Steve Wingate I have been obsessed with cars as long as I can remember. My mother often told me that my first word was not "mama" or "dada", but "car." I believe my grandfather, an avid car collector, had a lot to do with this. He often made the trek from Verbena, Alabama to Birmingham to visit his grandchildren, and it seems that every time he did, he showed up in a different car. On one visit he would arrive in a 1965 Cadillac convertible, then on the next trip he would be driving a Citroen or a Peugeot. I can remember one time in particular when this oddball-looking little car bounced into the driveway, and my grandfather clambered out a door in the front of the car. His all-time favorite, however, was a VW pickup truck, a very rare vehicle that looked like a chopped VW van. When my grandfather came to visit he always came bearing gifts. He always brought me one of three things: toy cars, model cars, or books about cars. It was as if he knew that I would someday share his passion for automobiles. And if I didn't, then the gifts would convince me otherwise. Ironically, toy cars and books about cars became my passion rather than the cars themselves. I attribute this to limited space and income, for if I had both, I'd probably have twice as many cars as my grandfather did. On the occasions when my family traveled to Verbena, my grandfather would walk me around his land and tell me about the many cars he kept there. Sadly, many of them were little more than piles of rust that had become home to creepers and ivy. No matter what their condition, however, he was proud of every last one of them. There was a Jaguar XK120 than could be identified only by the emblem on the dashboard, a super-charged Graham Hollywood, a Goliath, and three or four Packards all in varying stages of automotive decay. He also had the only Kaiser I have ever seen to this very day. There was even a partially assembled Model T in one of his chicken houses. The chicken houses hadn't had any occupants for years, and my grandfather had installed stained-glass windows in them partially as a joke, but also so that no overly-curious passerby could see what he was restoring. The Model T was his last restoration job, and was never finished. The stained-glass chicken houses did have some graduates-- a beautifully restored Model A, a 12 cylinder Lincoln, a 1963 Mercedes, and a BMW Isetta. This last car was the "oddball-looking little car" that I mentioned earlier. The Isetta had one door right in front, and was the weirdest vehicle I had ever seen. By the time I was twelve or thirteen, my grandfather had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and was placed in a nursing home. The task of readying the sprawling Verbena estate for sale fell to my father. Our family spent many weekends rambling around the old house and fields, cleaning out two generations of memories. The house itself was massive, ten rooms in all, but the real Herculean task was disposing of all the cars… 48 of them to be exact. I begged my dad to keep a few… after all, I would be sixteen before too much longer, and would be needing something to drive. The Mercedes or Citroen DS21 would do just fine, the Cadillac convertible even better. I remember my dad telling me that; first off, we didn't have the room for extra cars. (He was right.) Secondly, that my mother would kill him if he tried. (Right again.) And lastly, that he wasn't skilled enough as a mechanic to keep any of them running very well. (He was being modest.) My father found a buyer for all of those cars, and soon the only thing left in that field were the dead spots in the grass. It was during this time that I discovered my grandfather's library, an octagonal room with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. One wall was devoted to his collection of car books, the centerpiece of which was a twenty year collection of Automobile Quarterly. I poured over these and other books, reading about anything from Auburn Roadsters to Willys Jeeps. I made an even more exciting discovery in one far corner of the library-- hundreds of issues of Car and Driver, Motor Trend, Road and Track, Hot Rod, and Road Test. The earliest date on any of them I can remember is 1964, the latest around 1978. I looked at every last magazine, unknowingly memorizing hundreds of makes, details and no telling what else. Now, all of these years later, very little of what I learned has left me. I didn't learn many technical details, but instead, I studied the lines and designs, head and tail light clusters, the years they were made, the colors they came in, and the types of engines they had beneath the hoods. It was during this time that I discovered some of the cars that remain my favorites to this very day-- the Boss 302 Mustang, the 1970 Trans-Am, the Ferrari 308, Lancia Stratos, and the Mercedes C111 just to name a few. I still read Car and Driver and others today, so my knowledge continues to grow. Now, at age 31, I have yet to own any of these cars I've loved for so many years, but my passion is still very strong. My head turns at the sight or sound of a car much the same way that most men are captivated by beautiful women. The rumble of a well- tuned V8, or the shriek of a twelve cylinder power plant does something to me that I can't quite explain… the whine of a turbo charger is a siren song, and the sound of a strong automobile running through its gears speaks to me of freedom and exhilaration. 2001 Car Guy of Benchfield Home + TCGOB NASCAR! + Photo Garage + Links + Mad Mad Automotive World + Driving Songs + Humor Pages + Reader's Rides+ All About TCGOB + Contact Us