Summer cruisin’

Nothing announces summer in Minnesota like the roar of a classic car

The Classic Car Show in downtown Hastings, Minn., is a summer tradition, and one every snow-and-sub-zero-bound Minnesotan looks forward to as we put the previous six months, languishing in frozen tundra semi-hibernation, behind us. Every third Sunday from May through September, cars and trucks manufactured before 1985 (a few years after I was born, so I can refer to myself not as old, but “vintage”) converge on the town’s partitioned-off main drag. The cars and trucks gleam with the same pride in their craftsmanship as the owners. In the resplendence reflecting from their machines, they come from a variety of backgrounds: the retiree who rebuilt his teenage ride — and high school glory, a businessman who has a passion for mechanics and 1960s Chevrolet Corvettes, college sweethearts who still have the 1970 Ford Mustang Boss 302 in screaming Grabber Blue. Even parked on the street, the Boss looked like it was going 137 miles per hour. Being amid these automobiles and their owners is to be reminded of an America that used to be when these cars ruled the road: people shared a common culture, optimism, and fearlessness. America’s unique car culture emphasized the open road and the independence and freedom it brings. America’s mid-century cowboys didn’t ride horses, they rode Ford Mustangs.

The automobiles of the 1940s through the ’70s were testaments to the American Century when the American Dream was being realized by families in a post-WWII era. The oversized fins, glossy vinyl interiors, chrome finishes, and V-8 motors were born of American ingenuity, and the Detroit factories and designers that built and assembled these behemoths worked from a place of optimism and unblinkered vision for the future. Families set out to see the country, and motels, highway diners, and tourist traps like Wall Drug were eager to host them.

It’s a moment in history that cannot be replicated by today’s quiet, cookie-cutter, achromatic-colored, dull vehicles. Due to federal regulations and environmental standards, most cars and trucks are indistinguishable from each other, lacking the ostentation or unique characteristics that make classic cars so fun to look at and drive. And with the increasing number of electric vehicles on the road, the distinct roar of powerful internal-combustion engines is also fading.

While the look and sound of America’s mid-century legacy automobiles may belong to the past, so too does their more distinguishing tactile characteristics. Like full-service gas stations of the era, manual transmissions are more likely to be found in a museum than on the open road. Stick shifts are facetiously referred to as anti-theft devices. Manual window cranks and headlights are foreign to many people driving today. Still, they ensured an electric failure wouldn’t prohibit a rolled-down window, a mirror adjustment, or being able to move a seat. (What couldn’t a wrench do? Now we need a multimeter to open a car door.) Cigarette lighters were standard. Everything under the hood is accessible and beautiful, everything working in perfect synchronization.

In the Upper Midwest, where vintage cars, trucks, and motorcycles spend at least half of the year in storage due to the harsh winters — the natural enemy of the pristinely preserved treasures — seeing one on the road is usually confined to the warm summer months when the threat of salted roads and slush-covered potholes is reduced (but never nonexistent).

So with the smell of hot dogs and brats roasting on backyard grills permeating the atmosphere and the afternoon Twins’ game alternating between mellifluousness and elation on garage radios, it’s prime drive time for classic automobiles. Like the scents and sounds of summer, the vision of seven-decades-old American steel smoothing out the roads on white wall tires belongs to those golden days. Last spring, I was fortunate enough to park beside a 1964 Navajo Beige Ford Ranchero on an outing to the grocery store with my three small kids. As the Ranchero cruised away, its fortunate driver and I shared a knowing smile. He was proud of his mint-condition ride, and I was thankful that people are still passionate about preserving this vital slice of American history and that my kids are fortunate enough to see it before it’s gone.