A Car Encounter of the Best Kind
One of the things that gets lost in our modern day rush to get here and there and the automotive quest for a few miles a gallon more is how much cars can bring us together. How they can get people who might just pass each other by talking about the cars they drive and by extension the lives they lead.
It was the last opening day at Shea Stadium and being the Mets fan I am I felt like it was my duty to be there in person. After leaving New York back in the early 80’s it had been a tradition to head back to NYC on Opening Day, hook up with some pals and hit the ballpark. No matter if the Mets were good or bad we were there. Most of those guys are gone but I’m not, so for me it was where I had to be.
So a quick plane ticket and a call to Mazda to enlist the services of a Mazda 3 and here I am eating a diner breakfast and headed off to Shea for the game. The Mets lost but it was good to be there and back in NYC.
Next day …I grab a salami and provolone on Italian bread, a Yoo- Hoo and head down to one of the best spots in the world…Astoria Park.
Now for me Astoria Park has a lot of special meaning and a lot of it is around cars. I learned to drive in the parking lot at the end of Hoyt Avenue North, I used to shine and show almost all of the cars I owned along Shore Road, made out a lot on that same street and spent a lot of time just hanging out with pals and cars along the Hells Gate. While some parks on a hot summer night make you think of chirping birds and kids yelling, Astoria Park was the sound of revving Chevy small blocks, chirping tires, Thrush Mufflers and the Mister Softee jingle.
So as I cruise along in the Mazda looking for a spot to eat lunch and remember. All of a sudden, I spot a sanitary mid 60’s ‘vette coupe. A sweet looking black ride with a red gut that makes me slow down and as one vette owner to another let the guy know that his is a great ride. As I am chatting up his car he gives the Astoria Park signal for let’s make friends…”whydonchapullover”. I’m honored that a ‘vette guy is even going to acknowledge a guy driving a Mazda so I spin around and pull in front of the ‘vette though not too close so as he can have his “show it off” space.
A handshake and a few minutes later it’s like Chevy Joe and I are old friends. Turns out he was a good pal of a guy who worked for my dad in his gas station for years. So not only did Chevy Joe know my dad but also some of the street racers that I grew up around. Guys who used to rip up the Connecting Highway on Friday and Saturday nights. Names I hadn’t heard of in years came alive on the tip of Joes tongue.
Alipio and his Camaro, Bobby Sunoco and his Corvettes, Claude and the guys at World Wide Speed Shop, Astoria Chas, Pat Gallo and his 64 ‘vette, Steve the Greek, Jerry Z, Leo the Wrench, Long John, Butch Mallia, Butch Blum, Cockroach Pete and Mike the Greek…all names from the past all came alive for one more afternoon by the water at Astoria Park.
Chevy Joe knew the gas stations that my dad owned at Northern Blvd. and 71st, 43rd st and Astoria Blvd., 30th Street and Astoria Blvd., and a lot of the guys who worked for my dad over the years.
For a couple of hours I was 25 years younger and in a different time. You know Joe told me that his wife gets on him because he lives in the 50’s still. Mrs. Joe, thanks for not making Joe change. For this kid it was the best afternoon I had spent in a long time. It was like looking back into a history book and seeing everyone you know as a star of it. It was the afternoon I needed.
As I got ready to jump back in the Mazda I thanked Joe for the conversation and for being there with his car. If not for that ‘vette and the brotherhood that car owners feel, I would have missed out on one of the best afternoons of my recent life. By the way…I never got to finish the sandwich and the Yoo-Hoo.
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