Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/269902
March / April 2014 4 What would you do? I'll tell you want I did, but let me give you a little background first. I think it all started when my father got a lift. A car lift in his garage that is. This raised the number of cars he could fit in there to five. He would buy cars, fix them up, and sell them for a little extra cash for the family. Besides, it never hurt to drive a nice one and have some fun with it while we had it. The problem started when he would ask us to move the caddy. "Which one?" we would holler back. Colors rarely worked so we started naming them. I have fond memories of Snowball, a big white 300 SEL that just rolled like the German tank that it was. There was Goldie, an '84 911 SC with metallic gold paint and chocolate leather interior, and who can forget The Horrorizon. It was a mid '70s Plymouth horror story of things not working. My dad picked that one up at an auction for $500, but that is another story. There were many others, but I think you get my point. We name our cars as they are part of our family. Remember that, family. Fast forward to today, I keep the tradition alive with Red Racer an '88 944 Turbo and Blue Bullet the '00 996. And I think it should be noted that I did not name them, my kids did. I like to think my dad smiled down from heaven when the kids named them. In addition to naming cars when I was young, we took many a road trip in them. We would squeeze everything we had into the trunk, wire up the CB and radar detector and head off to distance states for great adventures. Getting there was always half the fun. That is not to say that we didn't just go for a drive to get out of the house once in a while. I fondly remember Saturday afternoon drives with my dad along some of the rolling Missouri hills south of our home. Now thinking about it, we did usually stop by the car wash to clean the car. Maybe there was a destination and we just took the long long way to get there. But I digress. Point being I was brought up to enjoy the car, whichever one it was, for its personality and uniqueness. Saab-rina had a wonderful whoosh to her turbo and the Wrangler's open air driving, topless and with out doors was always fun. You know maybe we did not have name for the Jeep. (I'll have to rethink that). Regardless the sedan, Jeep, sports car, or even motor home we had fun in them. Now for some ice cream. There is a funny saying; you know your a car guy when - you'd rather spill your morning coffee on your new tie than on your leather seat. I would usually put myself with that group. I like my cars clean, but I like getting them dirty better. Getting them dirty means you are enjoying your car. You are doing what they were meant for, to be driven. We as Porsche fans just happen to love a brand that excels at being driven. So when my little girl tugs at my shirt tail and asks, "daddy can we go get ice cream?" I almost always say yes. And when they ask if we can take Blue Bullet, I ALWAYS say yes. I do take lots of napkins though. - Stan "You know you are a car guy when - you'd rather spill your morning coffee on your new tie than your leather seats." EDITOR'S COLUMN By Stan Thorne Daddy can we get some icecream? Sure we can. Can we take Blue Bullet? Surely I'm not alone in this. Email me a photo of your car with its name and how it became so aptly named. I will dedicate a page to all our 4-wheeled family members. Send responses to: dersportwagen@gmail.com Did you name your car?