(Reprinted by kind
permission of The Tri-County News June 13, 2002)
Function's Flash Awes A Newcomer
Our reporter finds dreams wheeling by
By LaRae Ash
Editor's note: The writer, the Tri-County News' newest
reporter, got her first look last week at the June ritual of the Function
in Junction and shares her impressions here.
JUNCTION CITY - A visual feast. Eye candy. Part carnival, part flashback
and part family reunion.
It's hard to nail down just what the Function in Junction evokes. A young
man's fantasy or an old man's dream-come-true? Romantic remembrances of
soft summer nights cruisin' with your honey, or the dog days of summer
hauling hay in the old Ford pickup? Gangsters and glamour, or visions of
long, carefree, cross-country cruises? Or maybe a faint and cranky memory
of a hot Sunday afternoon, squabbling with your siblings in the back of
the Merc.
Wherever your inclinations might lead, there was something to appeal
last Friday evening when a thousand classic cars - and some not so
classic - took to the streets in a swirling, whirling, wonderful assault
on the senses.
From customized hot rods to classic Corvettes to old Chevy coups, T-Birds,
roadsters, Cadillacs and convertibles - lots of convertibles - all went
round and round, teasing and tempting with a brilliant flash of line and
color. Standing on the curb, it was easy to fixate, fascinated by one, and
then another, delighted each time it whirred or roared or rumbled by.
As the river of chrome and voluptuous color- canary yellows, royal blues,
pale pinks, the limeiest of greens and red-hot candy reds - flowed by, the
tired old phrase, "like a kid in a candy store" came to mind. Which one to
choose?
Fortunately, it's a decision that's not part of my world. Those glittering
automotive jewels represent not just hours of loving care and plain hard
work, but prices way beyond my meager budget.
But one doesn't require funds to fantasize. A pink Cadillac called my
name. And a huge, drifting turquoise boat of a car, white leather
interior, trimmed out in bold little ribbons of turquoise, with
bright-eyed, finned taillights winking my way. And always, the '57 Chevies,
upon which I cut my driving teeth.
Then there were the Corvettes, and I was 30 years back in time, flying
down the coastline in a sky-blue dream and my father's worse nightmare. I
met a Corvette couple who are heading off for a three-week road trip
through Canada with nine other Corvette couples. They didn't say which of
their two Corvettes they'd be driving - the sweet little red '59 or the
'96 coupe. It didn't matter, there wasn't room for me.
Like the thousands of folks lining Ivy Street - who came to see and to
touch and to hear the proud purr of an elegant part of our past, maybe
it's enough just to dream.
©
2002 Serif Publishing |