Cars were cooler in the old days. And yes, this is an old dog talking.

I suppose every generation had their favorite vehicles, their favorite cars, their favorite mode of transportation. I'd wager that when the ol' Model T rolled off the assembly line everybody wanted one.

If you're a Baby Boomer like me, there were basically two kinds of cars: The one you wanted, and the one you had. But you know what? It didn't matter all that much what your first car was, that first one that you actually paid for (albeit with a wee bit of help from your parents) with your own hard earned cash.

For me? Well, it was a 10-year-old Chevy, $500.00 thank you very much. It burned just about as much oil as gas. But it was fine, that 2-door hardtop with an 8-track player under dash and three on the tree.

But then, of course, there were the cars you wanted but were out of reach budget wise. Or maybe more appropriately, out of Dad's budget. He'd help a bit alright, but not that much! And until you could come to an agreement, you drove your parents car.

All of us wanted a '57 Chevy (and if it was a convertible like the one pictured above, that was a bonus). But alas, nope. Heck, even by the time they became pretty well 'used', they still cost a bit too much for a farm kid. They became 'hot' and pricey quick.

Everyone and I mean everyone wanted a GTO. If you could be draggin' main in a Goat (we were waaay cool, we called them Goats), you were the real deal. But wow, they didn't give those away!

Of course we all wanted a Pony. Yeah, yeah, it's a Mustang, but to us it was a Pony. And there were some motoring around my little hometown. Yes, some kids had them. Just not this kid. Why? I don't think my Pop was keen on them. And when someone is helping with the, uh, cost...well, it was better if he was 'keen' on it, too.

And maybe the 'most wanted' was a Dodge Charger. Heck, the name was just flat-out cool and the car was even cooler! Again, out of the price range (remember, we were thinkin' $500 was plenty enough) but certainly something to dream about.

There were others we wanted too of course. But why mention them all and put myself through the memory pain?

Except it isn't pain at all, it's a memory that bends nice and warm. And boy oh boy, I wish I had that 10-year-old Chevy again, puffin' that blue smoke out the back with the 8-track cranked up.


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