I currently own a 1972 Pontiac Grand Prix (Anaconda Gold) but at this particular time I had a 71' GP Model J in Bluestone Gray. The car was in very nice, "driver quality plus" condition so I would often take it to local shows and cruise nights in the area. Unfortunately, I could never convince my wife to join me on any of these outings. While she has never been opposed to my interest in these cars, she has little to no interest in them herself. She has often said that she doesn't understand why I have a car that I spend more time cleaning, polishing and maintaining then I do driving. To her, cars are a means of transportation and nothing more.
A few years ago on sunny Saturday afternoon in late September, I took the 71' out to a monthly cruise/show that I had been to several times before as it was one of my favorites and is only about 30 miles or so from my home. The day was really no different then any of the other days I attended this particular event and after about 4 or 5 hours I decided to pack up and head for home. As I was driving home on a rural stretch of county two lane, I had all four windows down, the radio off and just the sound of that smooth rumble you get with a 400ci V8 through a set of Flowmasters at 60 mph. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon and I realized at that point just what an absolutely beautiful day it had been. I noticed that there was little to no traffic on the road with the exception of a motorcyclist a couple of hundred yards behind me that I could see in my rear view mirror.
It was about this time that an overwhelming feeling of peace and tranquility overtook me. I remember thinking to myself, " My God, this is a perfect evening"...from the way the sunset was reflecting off the long polished hood of the Grand Prix, to the cool evening air rushing through the cockpit...the smell of late summer turning to fall and that sound...that wonderful V8 sound...perfect, absolutely perfect. It seemed as though all of my senses were ready to burst.
As the county two lane began to split into four, the motorcyclist that had been a few hundred yards behind me was now right on my tail. I could see he was riding a real nice Harley... it was decked out with all kinds of polished chrome bits and the rider was wearing all the gear. It was easy to see that he took the same amount of pride in his machine as I did in mine. He pulled up beside me and got a good look at my Grand Prix...grinning from ear to ear, he gave me an enthusiastic "thumbs up", to which I returned the gesture adding a wink of the eye just to let him know that I get it. He then rolled the throttle and quickly pulled away. As his taillight faded to little red speck on the horizon, I remember thinking to myself that I would remember this moment and this incredible, wonderful feeling for the rest of my days. I also thought that perhaps if my wife had come along and experienced this evening with me...maybe, just maybe...she would understand.
I later told her about my experience in great detail...she said, "that's nice Sweetie, I'm glad you had a good time"...oh well, I guess some people just don't get it.