Posted By Margery Krevsky on January 4, 2009
By Jim Hiller
As a motor city boy born and bred I was destined to be autocentric at birth. Neighborhood status had no time for clothing labels, size of home or any non-Detroit-pecking order metrics.
American-built automotive iron defined it all. Woe unto any red-blooded Detroit boy who could not quote chapter and verse of the quarter-mile drag strip results of the Pontiac GTO or the Plymouth Barracuda. Those poor souls were dispatched to the heap of what was so artfully described by Governor Schwarzenegger as Girly-Men and whisked off to study arts, crafts and home economics at some fancy private school in the East.
Once every year those of us who belonged to the automotive cult were whipped into an Ashoura-like frenzy called the Detroit Auto Show.For us Detroit boys that meant a full day at the show alternating glances between highly polished, massively finned cars and sleek as a mink beautiful young models who persuaded us with a subtle glance that
the two were inexorably intertwined ….. if only we could afford one the other would soon follow.
For a pack of hormonally driven 12-year-olds nothing could be more titillating than to attempt flirtatious interactions with the sleek sirens….. “Trying to score” we called it, and a moment of conversation with the Pontiac GTO girl could drive us into fits of lustful boasting that never clearly separated the girls from the cars. Both were so utterly unattainable that nervous bravado easily was deep enough for both.
Did anyone actually come away with a victory in the game of “scoring a model?”
Well…. truth be known I did and the reality turned out far different than my fantasy would have ever conjured. She was a law clerk for the Michigan State Court of Appeals and a recent Cum Laude law school graduate! I was a recent law school grad. No longer a siren my score became a peer and forever crushed my childhood musing of a sleek beauty that mirrored the brainless Detroit Iron of my youth….The next month I bought a Volvo.