Firebird Dreams

Pontiac breathed adventure into my life when I was young.  They gave me the Firebird.

When I first had cancer at 14 and was searching for belonging, a senior in my High Schoold took me under wing.  He was the Band Major and was very popular.  He took his black Trans Am along the country roads in North Carolina at speeds that shouldn't be tried at other than a race track.  I remember the fields and the trees moving by in a tinted blur.  He would drive the car with two wheels off the road, jerk the wheel and jam the gas, causing the big 400 engine to whip us into a 180 degree turn.  He gave me adventure when the rest of my life was chemotherapy.  It was life, and we shared the adventure.

Later, my friend, Michael Frey, owned a Burgandy Firebird LT.  We took it to Florida for Spring Break at age 18 and drove it along Daytona's white beaches.  It was a great Spring Break vehicle.  We were young and full of life.  It was fun flirting with the girls.  We returned home with an empty tank of gas and a nickle left to our name.  The trip and the car gave us everything they had.  

I remember roaring through the night in Mike's car along an unknown road and rounding a corner.  I remember Mike cutting the wheel hard to the left as we saw a Steel bridge racing toward us in his high beam headlights.  I remember sitting in the passenger seat as the car went airborne, passenger door slipping through space toward the steel supports of the bridge as they grew larger in my sight.  I remember the tires hitting the pavement and biting into the asphalt milimeters away from the bridge.  They squealed and took us forward into the night.  Mike used to say, "Know the envelope of your automobile."  By chance or choice, we fell within that envelope.  God's protection.

Mike graduated valedictorian of our high school class and went to the Air Force Academy.  He flies F-16's today at more than twice the speed of sound. He is a hero of conflicts representing our country.  He still knows the envelope of his vehicle.  I am happy to have traveled with him quickly through the darkness when we were young.  His adventures since have exceeded me.  Break the surly bonds of this earth, brother.

My father bought me a 1977 Firebird Formula when I was in high school.  It was red and black and the best car that I have ever owned.  I drove it during high school and college.  It had an over bored 350 engine and was very fast.   I never had a ticket until the Formula.  Then the police officers knew the doppler effect of my vehicle.  I hope that I drove some of my younger friends into the adventures of life.  I hope that they find adventure, still.

A friend of mine from South Africa used to say that he loved American Muscle Cars.  You knew they were coming.  European cars sounded like, "Zooom."   American cars sounded of pure strength making a sound like, "Blub, Blub, Blub, Blub."  He made me laugh!

When I was engaged and living in Monterey, California, my parents bought us a 1982 Trans Am.  It was red and black and was the first year of the F-Body.  I rented a small apartment for us overlooking Monterey Bay.  The sunlight there was pure.  She always heard the slow thrum of the engine as I drove that car into the parking lot coming home.  I remember sitting in that Trans Am as the sun fell redly down over the Pacific Ocean at a place called "Lovers Point" in Pacific Grove, California while she and I broke off our engagement.  I remember driving that Trans Am to the Monterey airport and using the balance of our wedding gift money to  buy a plane ticket for her to return home.  I remember the tears in my eyes as I returned home to give her that ticket.  I remember driving back to the empty Monterey apartment the next day in that Red Trans Am to clean the place and return the keys.

My main transportation now is my black Lexus.  It is the sedative of vehicles.

I went for years without a Firebird, but I purchased another Red and Black Trans Am a couple of years ago.  My dear wife, Julia, teases me, because I never drive it.  In fact, it won't run right now because it needs a new fuel pump.  But somehow, I'm happier owning a Firebird.  We age much more quickly than we expect but the music of the Pontiac's engine roars within me. 

Here's to our youth, our adventures, our friends, our love, and our recollections.  Life moves on, and yet every moment stays still.  

Blub, Blub, Blub, Blub. Forever.

Be Blessed.

JDS